Wicked Indulgence: A Wicked Innocence Novella (3 page)

“You sure that isn’t the remnants of whatever you did last night?” Max chuckles. Leo scowls at him. “But yeah, it was pretty magical.” He slaps me on the back. “You rocked those lyrics, bro.”

“So, what now?” I ask Lyndall.

“Now we go at this full throttle,” she grins. I find myself nodding, her enthusiasm contagious. “You want to be number one? You’ll get there, I promise you. All you need to do is perform like that.”

Chapter Five

I can’t believe how fast things are moving. When Lyndall promised me results, I wasn’t expecting them to happen this quickly. We are on our way to L.A. to perform a few shows at some real fucking venues for once. Hell, we even have one booked for Staples Centre, and it’s fucking sold out.

“The single is climbing up the charts, Sax. You guys should be proud.” Lyndall’s voice floats through the speaker of my phone as I sit in the back of the van, Leo on my left.

“We are, trust me,” I chuckle. “So, what’s after this?”

“Let’s just get through tonight and we’ll talk,” she chuckles. “Oh, and you guys have been invited to a pretty exclusive party tomorrow night after your show. I take it you’ve heard of Chandra Williams?”

Leo whistles next to me and I grin.
Is she fucking serious?
Have we heard of her? Who the fuck hasn’t? The daughter of an oil tycoon, Chandra is famous for being famous. I’ve heard about her parties, and more often than not, they get out of hand. This is going to rock.

“Yeah, we should be able to make it,” I say, keeping my tone neutral.

“Fucking yes, we’ll be there,” Max shouts from the front of the van. He turns around and glares at me, his expression incredulous. “What are you on, Sax? Have you
seen
that chick?”

Lyndall laughs and I roll my eyes at Max’s enthusiasm.

So much for playing it cool.

We arrive outside the hotel management has booked for us. I’m impressed. It’s actually pretty fucking good. We each have our own room, complete with a large marble bathroom and skyline views of the city.

Throwing my bags down on the floor, I collapse onto the bed. I stare at the ceiling, a smile tugging at my lips. I could get used to this. Everything is paid for: room service, movies, entertainment…My stomach rumbles. I reach over for the menu and the phone, placing an order of steak and fries.

While I wait for my food, I check out the minibar, impressed to see it stocked with enough tiny bottles of whiskey to at least get me buzzed. I pull one out and slam it down, the warm liquid burning my throat in the best possible way.

Fuck, that’s good.

After I’ve eaten, I give Stace a call to check in. There’s no point keeping my parents up to date with what’s happening, but I know Stace worries.

“How is it?” she asks, her voice full of excitement.

“Fucking amazing,” I chuckle, using her choice line. “Seriously, Stace, it’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of, and this is nothing compared to what it could be.” My heart pounds at the thought that things could get better than this. How is that even possible?

“I’m so happy for you, Sax. If anyone deserves it, you do.”

“Yeah, I wish everyone felt that way,” I mutter. As much as I try not to think about the bad stuff, it always makes its way back into my mind. It’s like a disease that refuses to leave me alone.

“Take your own advice and focus on what makes you happy,” she says.

I laugh. I love my little smart-assed sister. “Thanks, Stace. I’ll call you in a few days, okay?”

“Okay. Bye. Love you.”

I end the call just as a message pops up on my screen.

Lyndall: If that snake of a friend of yours causes my PA to quit I’ll hold you responsible.

Laughing, I tap out a reply.

Me: I take it you mean Max? I don’t even wanna ask…

Lyndall: She just texted me that she’s back in his room. God help us.

Me: I don’t know, could be a good thing? According to Max, he leaves them pretty satisfied…

A few minutes pass and I get no reply. I chuckle and wonder how much trouble I’m in for that comment. A light tap on the hotel room door has me curious. Did I annoy her that much that she’s actually outside my room?

I swing open the door and laugh as I find her standing there scowling at me.

She narrows her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest. “Do you ever take things seriously?” she mutters, pushing her way into my room.

I step back, my gaze falling to her ass, of which I can just make out the curve through her short cotton dress.

“Come in and make yourself at home,” I say, my voice dry. “And it was a joke. Are you incapable of tolerating humor?”

“No, I’m incapable of tolerating stupidity,” she fires back, mimicking my tone. She sighs and reaches up, rubbing her temples. “I’m sorry, I just get frustrated with people who get everything handed to them.”

“And that’s what you think of Max?” I laugh, shocked.

“That’s the vibe he gives off,” she insists. “He gets what he wants and doesn’t give a shit who he steps on in the process. I bet he still lives with his parents, who spoil him with money and lack of responsibility. I know his type, trust me.”

She’s pretty much describing my childhood.

“You’re way out of line,” I say with a groan. “Max lives in a crappy apartment in a bad neighborhood because everything he makes goes into achieving his dream. His parents died when he was young, leaving him in and out of foster homes for most of his teenage life. Sure, he can be a selfish asshole, but he is also one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met.”

She doesn’t look convinced as I continue.

“The guy you described could be me a few years ago.”

“You?” she laughs, her eyebrows lifting.

I nod. “The money, the rich lifestyle. That was pretty much my life.”

“What changed?” she asks.

I shrug. “I didn’t want the life they’d set out for me, and doing what I wanted wasn’t an option in their eyes.”

“So you don’t see them now?” she presses.

“I see them. Hell, I still live with them, but every day is a struggle. My Dad pretty much wants nothing to do with me and Mom…” I shake my head. “Well, she’s a whole other story.”

“Then why stay there?”

“For Stace,” I say, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “My sister. She’s a few years younger than me, and so long as I’m around to be the disappointment, I can protect her.”

Lyndall’s face softens. She steps forward, taking my hand in hers. I jump, not expecting the chemistry I feel when she touches me.

“I can’t even imagine not having my family’s support,” she says.

“Yeah, well, you get used to it,” I say.

But you never really do. You come to expect it, but you never really accept it. They think I’m the disappointment, but in my eyes, every time I’ve needed them, they’re never there for me. What kind of parent does that to a child? Then I feel guilty, because I know there are people worse off than me. At least I have a family.

Even if sometimes I feel like I don’t.

****

I wait by the edge of the stage, watching the previous band finish up. A huge roar erupts, which takes my breath away. The crowd is huge, but I’m not at all nervous. I’m fucking pumped to get out there and start singing.

My hands shake as I impatiently wait. I’m so ready for this. I was born to perform, and to be living my dream feels amazing. I turn as someone touches my shoulder. Lyndall stands behind me, looking stunning in a short silver dress. With her every movement, the crystals on her dress catch the light and sparkle. I run my gaze down over her body, taking in her long, lean legs.

“Eyes up here, Sax,” she says, her voice dry.

“Sorry,” I mumble, my eyes locking on hers. “You look good.”

Good? Fuck.

She laughs and flips her long, blond hair over her shoulder. “Thanks,” she grins. “How are you guys? Ready?”

“Yep.” I grin, speaking for all of us. “I can’t get over how many people there are.”

“This is nothing,” she scoffs, shaking her head. “Wait till you see the Staple Centre. That makes this place look like a tea party.”

We are interrupted by a pretty redhead who approaches us mid-conversation. I watch as Lyndall embraces her and the two chat excitedly. I catch Lyndall’s eye and she nods, realizing she’s forgotten I’m just standing there.

“Sax, this is my personal assistant, Gemma Gollier. She’ll be helping me out with you guys at events such as these.”

Max wanders over to us, a glint in his eye as he sizes up Gemma. I groan, unable to hide my amusement as he goes in for the kill.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” he says, his voice smoother than rich, melted chocolate. She takes his extended hand and smiles as he kisses it, her face reddening.

“Oh for God’s sake, Max, leave her alone,” Lyndall snaps.

“It’s fine, really,” Gemma gushes. From the way she’s batting her long, dark lashes, I know he has her. “It’s nice to meet you, Max.”

“Fine, can you introduce her to the others while I go and handle a few things?” Lyndall directs the question at me, but Max answers.

“I’d be honored.” He whisks her off before Lyndall can protest. She rolls her eyes and sighs before storming off. Laughing, I shake my head, loving how easily annoyed she gets. She’s cute when she’s angry.

Fifteen minutes later, we stand by the stage as the announcer introduces us. I’m shaking, but it’s more excitement than nerves. This is really happening. As I hear our name called, I run out onto the stage, the guys behind me. We take our places and begin to play.

I strum my guitar as the crowd roars. It’s insane that they’re here to see us. I’ve been the guy in the background for so fucking long that I just can’t get my mind around these people being here for me.

I grab the mic and begin to sing. A hush races through the crowd as they hang off my every word. I close my eyes and listen to the sound of the guys behind me. Max on bass, Leo on drums, and Bazz on keyboard.

When I sing the last line, the crowd goes wild. It’s the biggest rush I’ve ever felt, and right then I know this is going to be my life. Nothing compares to this. I wave to the crowd, glancing off to the side of the stage, where I catch Lyndall’s eye. She gives me a thumbs up, a big smile on her face. I grin back, her enthusiasm sending shivers through my body.

We run through a few more songs from our playlist before our time is up. The more time I spend on that stage, the more at home I feel. After our final set, we run off the stage to where Lyndall and Gemma are waiting.

“You guys rocked it,” Lyndall murmurs, her eyes firmly on me. “They loved you out there.”

“Yep, I guarantee that 99 percent of that crowd is going home with damp panties,” Max chuckles.

Lyndall shoots him a look, but Gemma laughs, earning her a glare from Lyndall.

“What?” she protests, tossing her auburn hair over her shoulder. “He’s funny.”

Lyndall shakes her head and mutters something under her breath. “Anyway, we better get to this party.” She nods at the guys. “You guys go with Gemma, and I’ll take Sax in my car.”

The guys are too wired about the party to make any snide comments about me going with her. We walk outside and are greeted with a crowd of screaming teenage girls.

Leo lets out a laugh as he runs his fingers through his hair. “Well shit,” he mutters. “We have fans, guys.”

“Go over and interact,” Lyndall urges us. “It’s great to be seen as stars who take the time to do that.”

We swagger over and the screaming gets louder. Laughing, I throw a look at Max, who looks like he’s just stumbled across a room full of candy.

“Remember, dude, they’re underage,” I tease. “She said interact, not sleep with.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t look,” he scoffs.

“Actually,” I laugh, slapping him on the back, “I’m pretty sure it does.”

We spend the next fifteen minutes signing autographs and posing for photos until Lyndall drags us away. The guys head over to the van with Gemma, and I follow Lyndall.

“Weird experience?” she asks, a smirk on her lips.

I nod. “We’ve been approached by fans before, but never so many at once,” I laugh. “And I’m guessing you’re about to tell me that’s nothing?”

“Right,” she nods with a grin. “It will only get bigger from here, Sax.”

I slide into the passenger seat of her Mercedes C63. She gets in beside me, and my eyes go to her milky white thighs, which are exposed as her skirt of her dress rides up. She narrows her eyes at me, a faint smile on her lips. I look away, chuckling, and stare out the window.

“So, how are you coping with everything?” she asks.

I shrug, surprised by the question. “Fine, I think.” Is she suggesting that I’m not coping? Anxieties begin to creep in as I try to deconstruct what she’s saying. “This is what I want to do, and I’m excited to have this shot.”

“Just keep things in perspective—that’s the biggest piece of advice I can give you. Being famous will be one of the most terrifying and exciting rides of your life. How you come down from that high is up to you.”

“Why are you telling me this and not the others?” I ask.

“Because you’re the backbone of this band,” she states, her tone matter of fact. “Without your killer vocals and sexy look, this band wouldn’t do nearly as well.”

Sexy look?
I smile.