by Amity Cross
Thinking about the differences I’d seen in Sebastian, I wondered if it was just a reflection of his world. He had to play a part as lead singer of Beneath and maybe that’s what I was reacting to. Well, I’d just have to get to know both of them and figure out which was which, because when I was with him—like we were last night, raw and naked, exposed and heartfelt—I felt alive, like the world was at my feet, and that was worth fighting for. He was worth fighting for.
I could do this. I could navigate strange waters, shake off the online gossip, go head to head with Sebastian’s manipulative management, and take all of this in stride. My life was in flux, and when the dust settled, I’d be on top, hand-in-hand with my one true love. Hopefully.
Ignoring the eight-thousand-dollar price tag, I reached for the Comme des Garcons leather jacket. I slipped it off the hanger and over my shoulders, the scent of leather wafting up my nose.
It fit like a glove.
When Sebastian came back, I’d gorged myself on eggs and bacon and had gone through the rack of clothes, picking out an entire outfit.
A pair of black Levi skinny jeans hugged my arse, a cool vintage tee with the Triumph Motorcycle logo was underneath the loose black cashmere jumper, and the Comme des Garcons leather jacket was slung over the back of the couch beside my head. My own boots were still on my feet, but I’d put on new underwear because it was silky and lacy. I’d never owned anything so tiny with lace on it. The whole thing was a trip.
“Is that all you chose?” Sebastian asked, sitting beside me on the couch.
I hugged my cup of tea in my hands and smiled. “I don’t need all that stuff. A simple change of clothes it enough.”
He eyed the leather jacket and grinned.
“What? It’s tough as hell, I couldn’t leave it behind.” I sighed and sipped at my tea. The tea I’d made myself because I wasn’t sure whether I needed to ring a bell or something.
The more I thought about it, the more I didn’t understand how to be rich. How did you find personal shoppers? I doubted they were in the Yellow Pages, at least not the ones with intimate access to all the luxury designers. People even had private chefs cook them dinner every night, and cleaners and pool boys and personal security, and I don’t even know what else.
“So, how does this work?” I asked, setting my cup down. “The whole press, party thing.”
“It’s highly structured,” Sebastian explained. “There’ll be a driver and an assistant with us, Vix will be there to make sure no one’s a dick, and we just go with the flow. Talk the talk.”
“Talk the talk with the flow?”
He laughed. “I find that someone usually tells me where I need to be.”
I frowned, perplexed at the thought of not knowing where I was going and why.
“How do we get there?” I was imagining airport security and first-class seats on a commercial Qantas flight with a crowd of fans following us from the gate. “How does the airport work with all those people?”
He chuckled and threw his arm over my shoulders. “We’re only going to Sydney. Don’t worry about it.”
I made a face. “And?”
“And we’ve got a private charter.”
Ugh. Just a private jet and racks of designer clothes and undie-buying assistants.
“How do you do it?” I asked totally bewildered.
“Do what?”
“Be rich.”
“It’s a trip, huh?” He grinned. “One day a manager turned up with an assistant and told me my wish was their command.”
“It sounds like it’s a case of ‘be careful what you wish for.’”
Sebastian grunted. “You’ve got that right. The record label people, like Vix and her cronies, have their own agenda when it comes to satisfying my wishes.”
“Fuck, this shit is like an episode of Game of Thrones.”
He laughed and nodded vigorously. “Vix is Cersi fucking Lannister.”
“I can see it now,” I murmured.
“What?”
“Why you wanted to get away. I mean,” I smoothed down the black cashmere jumper I’d chosen and met his gaze, “I imagine it’s easy to get caught up in all this and lose sight of the meaning.”
“Yeah. It is, but I hope that’ll all be different now.” He placed his palm on my thigh and squeezed. “Hey, I’ve got today to myself. What do you want to do?”
“Oh, I…” I glanced out the window. “I honestly didn’t think further than showing up last night.”
“Well take advantage, it’s a rare day with nothing on the schedule.” He angled his body towards mine, drawing my focus back onto him. “Things are going to get crazy, Juni. Are you sure? I mean—”
“Shut up,” I said, slapping my hand over his mouth. “You’re stuck with me, Sebastian Hale. For better for worse, no matter what those fuckers think about it.”
I felt his lips curve into smile underneath my palm and my uncertainties began to dissolve.
Tugging my hand away, he wrapped his fingers around my wrist and tugged me onto his lap. “I know the perfect place to take you.”
“Yeah? Do I sense a dirty joke coming?”
“Nope.” Sebastian laughed and kissed me softly on the lips. “It’s someplace even better.”
5
Juniper
The elevator doors slid open with a ding, and Sebastian and I stepped out into the foyer of the Crown Towers hotel.
“Are you sure this is wise?” I looked around the lobby with shifty eyes, but no one was interested in a pair of grungy rockers in their designer jeans.
“Yeah.” He smiled and lifted up the hood of my jacket.
He’d picked it out for me from the rack, saying something about being incognito. It was a black leather number with a large hood to cover my copper hair and deep pockets to put all my things inside since he’d noticed I didn’t like carrying a bag.
The hotel joined onto the casino and shopping complex, so outside in the atrium a rush of people were going back and forth. Inside, a giant chandelier hung over a giant black marble water feature, the light moody and dark. And outside, glitzy lights flashed over the awning as valets waited to greet guests and deliver their cars.
The day was cold despite the sunshine as we ventured through the doors. Hand in hand, we walked along the street just like anyone else.
We waited at the crosswalk with a mass of other pedestrians, and when the lights changed, we went with the flow of foot traffic and strolled along the banks of the Yarra river. Shops and restaurants lined the waterfront to our right—and the Eureka Tower, the highest building in the city—while above us to the left was the slew of skyscrapers that made up the bulk of the Melbourne CBD.
It was a real trip to walk through the city with the one and only Sebastian Hale. No one had recognised him, yet, and I basked in the sunshine of our stolen anonymity. After all the stress of the paparazzi following us in Point Mambie, being together like this was bliss. No one gave a stuff at all.
“Where are we going?” I asked, tightening my fingers around his.
“You’ll see,” he replied mysteriously.
Finally, after a long walk through the streets of Melbourne, we found ourselves strolling along Lygon Street, the bustling Italian epicentre of the city. Restaurants were everywhere, as were stores selling flavours of gelato one could only imagine, the smells of roasting coffee wafted out of cafès, and sexy cocktail lounges were dotted here and there. Trees were crammed into every available space, brightening the already lively strip, and knowing the famous Readings bookstore was farther along the street, I felt a pang of longing for The Page Break.
“Here we are,” Sebastian declared, opening a door to a little pasta restaurant.
The moment we stepped inside, we were greeted with the scent of simmering tomatoes and fresh pasta that was being rolled by a chef by the front window.
“Mr. Sebastian,” a waiter said, coming to greet us, “your usual table?”
“Please.”
I glanced at Sebastian, who only beamed at me in responce.
“What’s this?” I asked as we followed the waiter into a private room that overlooked the street.
“Just the best Italian food in the city…and a little peace and quiet while we enjoy it.”
We were seated at a cozy table for two and handed menus and a wine list.
“What would you like?” Sebastian asked. “I can recommend all of it.”
I laughed and scanned the menu. Luckily for him, I wasn’t one to watch my weight. Pasta meant carbs, lots of them.
“They make all their own pasta here,” he went on. “Hand cut and everything.”
“Well, in that case, I’ll try the Genovese pesto fusilli.”
“Good choice.”
Sebastian ordered for us and we settled back and watched the world go by on the other side of the window. A few people looked in, but no one stopped.
“This is so nice,” I said.
“It’s a great place, huh? I come here when I can, which isn’t often. They make the best Italian food outside of Italy.”
“You’ve been to Italy?” I loved that he wanted to share something he enjoyed with me.
He smiled. “Something like that.”
“Is there anywhere you haven’t been?” I’d never left the country, let alone gone to Europe or America. I had a passport, but no one had stamped it, so the thought I might be going to all of these places had goosebumps running up and down my arms.
“There are tons of places I haven’t been yet,” Sebastian said as the food arrived.
“South America?” I asked as the waiter poured us some red wine. It matched the flavours of the sauce we’d chosen with our pasta. Apparently. I knew shit all about wine.
He smirked. “We’ve had a concert or two in Buenos Aires. Oh, and Rio and Santiago.”
“Now you’re just rubbing it in.” I rolled my eyes and picked up my fork, eyeing the spiral-shaped pasta in front of me. “I haven’t been anywhere.”
“Yet.”
“What is the tour going to be like?” I asked. “Vix was pretty candid. She said, ‘the dirt gets dirtier,’ or something like that.”
“When did she say that?”
I shrugged. “While I was on the side of the stage.”
“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”
“I was too busy getting fucked from every angle.” I wiggled my eyebrows up and down.
Sebastian grinned and speared his pasta on his fork. “Seriously though, you shouldn’t have to put up with her. Let me deal with it.”
“No.” I shook my head. “I can handle her. Bitchiness is something I’ve had to put up with my entire life. Having your dad throw himself off a cliff, then your mother having a breakdown, made for a lot of juicy gossip. Kids can be cruel, but adults take the cake.” I straightened up. “Anyway. Enough about that. What’s the tour schedule like?”
“Well,” Sebastian began, “there are a few cities we do several gigs at, like Los Angeles, San Fran, Huston, and New York. We have press at each stop. Radio shows, TV spots, stuff like that. We do meet and greets with the fans, and sometimes signings at malls and record shops. There are parties and after parties, and after-after parties. We stay in fancy hotels and fly between most places. Sometimes we have a bus, though.”
My head was spinning. “A bus?”
“It’s basically a giant motorhome with all the mod cons.”
I thought about all the things he’d just said, about the signings, the press, and the meet and greets, and wondered when we’d have time to just be together. A stolen moment here or there between the after-after parties, dodging between groupies and lines of cocaine. My heartbeat began to speed up and I set down my fork. It was all so overwhelming.
“Something’s bothering you,” Sebastian stated.
My fingers fumbled for my fork again, and I shoved a curl of pasta into my mouth. I chewed on it, letting the rich sauce settle on my tongue while I thought about what I was going to say…if I said anything at all.
“You can tell me,” Sebastian went on. “I want you to tell me what’s on your mind.”
I swallowed, eyeing him warily. I didn’t want to come across as the clingy girlfriend who ruined all his fun, but I didn’t want to worry about random women crawling up into his personal space either. I was a hopeless romantic, just like my mother had been. She’d been all eyes for my dad the moment she met him. Loving fiercely seemed to be a family trait coded into the Rowe DNA.
“It’s just…” I set my fork down again and took a deep breath. “Those women last night. They were so blatant. Is anyone taking care of you tonight?” I shook my head and made a face. “It was a borderline orgy in there.”
“Beneath has a reputation. I have a reputation,” he said, poking at his food. “Most of it was true, but the others are free agents. I can’t stop them. Our tours get wild and just because I’m not partaking, doesn’t mean it stops.”
“I didn’t mean…” I shouldn’t have said anything. Picking up my water, I downed a mouthful, the iciness making my teeth ache.
“I don’t want that kind of life anymore,” Sebastian said. “It’s empty and unsatisfying. It was a drain. Those kinds of people only want what they can get for free. Five minutes of fame, a cheap orgasm, free booze, free drugs. They don’t want to understand the inner workings of an arsehole rock star. They just want to know the depth of my pockets and the length of my dick.”
“Oh…” I didn’t know where to look.
“Besides, I went home with you.” He shifted his weight in his chair. “The others still want to do those things, and I’m not their lord commander. They’re in control of their actions.” He snorted and shook his head. “When I think about some of the shit I did, sometimes I really fucking hate myself. I was such an arsehole.”
“But you’re not like that now,” I said. “I’m sorry. It’s just a shock seeing it and I know it was next to nothing.”
“Juniper, I didn’t know you then,” he went on. “I didn’t know much of anything, really.”
I blew a tight breath between my lips and glanced out the windows.
“I know I’m asking a lot of you. What we had in the Point meant so much to me, but . . .” he trailed off, the air thickening with unsaid words.
“It was only going to be temporary.”
“Yeah.”
When I looked back at him, his stormy eyes were sad.
“It’s okay.” I pressed my palms against my cheeks in an attempt to cool the flush that’d risen in them. “I didn’t know I was going to get this jealous. Or uptight.”
“I know I’ve slept around and done some heartless shit,” Sebastian leaned forward and took my hand in his, “but I’m clean.”
“Oh, I…” I straightened up as my mind began to race. “I never…” I sighed and tugged my hand away. “You must think I’m stupid. I never thought about that.” Who thinks about STDs in the moment? Ugh, I was such a fool.
“You’re not stupid, Juni. I’m asking you to change everything about your life for me and I’d hope you’d ask the hard questions. You know why?”
“Why?” I whispered.
“Because it means what we’re doing is real.”
A thumping sound on the window drew our attention and we looked outside. The blood drained from my face as I saw cameras shoved against the glass, and the moment we turned, flashes started going off left and right.
“Mr. Sebastian!” The waiter came rushing in and closed the curtains, swearing under his breath. “They come inside too. I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
“It’s not your fault, Ronaldo,” Sebastian said, soothing the guy’s nerves as he grabbed his phone.
“They don’t waste any time,” I quipped, rolling my eyes. The vulture analogy was right on the money today.
But Sebastian wasn’t listening. He was busy barking orders to whoever was on the other end of his phone call.
“They found us. We’re swamped and need a c
ar to come get us.” He paused as someone replied. “Yeah, yeah, rip me a new one later. Just get a car and some security here now.”
I reached for my wine glass and pressed it to my lips. Sipping the red wine, the liquid burned down the back of my throat as I eyed Sebastian.
“There’s a car coming,” he said to me. “Ten minutes.”
He had the jitters, but I seemed to be having a better time hiding mine. I swallowed another mouthful of wine and put the glass down. I was so not a connoisseur, but the alcohol was decent liquid courage.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pulling me into his arms. “I should’ve known this would happen.”
“It’s okay,” I whispered.
“It’s fucking not okay.” He kissed the top of my head. “I don’t know what’s going through my head, Juni.”
“You just wanted to be normal for a moment,” I replied. “I get it.”
“I hate that they’re making money off this.”
“Even vultures have to eat, I suppose.”
Before he could answer, his phone rang. “Are you here? Good, we’re coming out so be ready.”
I grasped Sebastian’s hand, a wave of nausea threatening to hurl the pasta I’d just eaten onto the floor. Bonus points for hitting a couple of paps on the way out.
“Pull up your hood,” he murmured, “and keep your head down.”
I nodded, my throat thick, and hid my hair underneath the leather. I knew he was only trying to protect me, but I was really starting to feel like a criminal being ushered to and from a court hearing. All I wanted was to be Juniper and Sebastian. But that wasn’t to be our reality. The photographers just made it painfully obvious we were a hot topic.
Sebastian led the charge through the restaurant and the staff opened the doors for us. The moment we stepped outside, the paparazzi went crazy. They shouted at us, shoved cameras in our faces, but I did as Sebastian said. I made sure my hood was up and put my head down, holding onto his hand for dear life.
He carved a path through the fray, and a huge bulky man was pushing people back to give us room. Ahead of us, a car door opened and Sebastian bundled me into the back, following once I was safely inside. Once we were closed inside, the chaos muted to a dull roar.