As You Were (Rising Star Book 2)

by Lee Piper

  Shifting in his seat until he faces me, Drake pins me with a look. “I’ll tell you what fucking happened.”

  “Watch your tone when you speak to her.” Zeke takes a step forward, his expression deadly.

  “Calm your tits. She knows I’d never disrespect her.” Drake faces me, muttering, “No matter how stupid you are for getting involved with a prick like him.”

  But Zeke hears him. “Call me that again, and you’ll be eating through a straw, motherfucker.”

  I jump to my feet. “Guys, enough!”

  Both glare at each other, ready for epic carnage in the form of fists and blood, but I’ll have none of it. Not on my watch.

  Pointing at my foolish friend, I warn, “You will mind your damn manners. I don’t care how angry you are, you don’t speak to me or Zeke like that. Ever. Are we clear?” Drake glances away, grumbling under his breath.

  Next, I face Zeke. “And you.” His gaze is heated, making me falter. My thoughts become a jumbled mess of ineffective phrases as hungry eyes roam my face and body. Damn it, now my nipples are hard. “Quit with the overprotective act. I can handle myself.”

  Yeah, that didn’t sound convincing at all.

  Stalking to where I stand, Zeke tilts my head back. “You’re fucking beautiful.”

  His mouth crashes into mine. With a moan, I throw my arms around his neck, irritation forgotten. My sensitive breasts rub against his chest, craving the friction. Zeke grips the back of my neck, angles my head, and with a groan, forces his tongue inside.

  “Pull your fucking shirt down, Wil. I can see your ass,” Drake groans.

  With a squeal, I let go of Zeke and spin so my back is to his front. Thankfully, the T-shirt slides into place so both it and his large body hide the aforementioned ass. The same can’t be said for my face, however, which is clearly on display and no doubt a flaming red.

  Drake glares at us. “That’s why we’re in this mess.”

  “Because of my ass?” I’m 98 percent certain my brain isn’t functional yet. It’s still focused on trying to get my heart under control.

  “Jesus Christ.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I need a fucking drink.”

  “It’s five in the morning.”

  “No shits to give.”

  Surprisingly, after a squeeze of my hip, Zeke heads to the kitchen to pour my friend a whiskey. When he returns, he holds the glass to Drake. They have some silent conversation I can’t decipher, but I’m guessing it’s their way of apologizing. Either way, it ends in Drake taking the drink and Zeke keeping his fists to himself, so I’m calling it a win.

  “Man, I needed that.” Drake slams the empty tumbler on the coffee table, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Better?” I ask.

  He nods. After staring at the glass a moment, he takes a deep breath and faces me. “There’s no easy way to tell you this, so I’m just gonna come out and say it.”

  Squaring my shoulders, I prepare myself for whatever is on his mind.

  “You and lover boy, here,” he indicates Zeke, “made the headlines. Of every music and entertainment site worldwide.”

  I need to sit down.

  “I’d congratulate you if it weren’t for the picture of Zeke eating your face.” He holds up one hand. “Look, I get it. Lip biting is hot as fuck with the right person, but Jesus, Wil. Not in a dark alley near a fucking dumpster.” He gestures to Zeke. “Especially when said dumpster belongs to his fucking restaurant.” Shaking his head, he continues. “You couldn’t wait, could you?”

  White noise fills my ears.

  “How do they know Zeke owns the restaurant?” My voice is far away, even to my own ears.

  “Selena,” Drake mutters.

  Of course.

  “You can bet your bare ass she jumped on the pity wagon and rode it all the fucking way to the bank,” he continues. “That bitch has been interviewed, she’s made two statements, and was even seen leaving a gig pretending to bawl her eyes out.” His hands clench into tight fists. I’d try to ease them open again, comfort him somehow, except I can’t. I’m frozen.

  “Fucking terrible actress. Someone needs to tell her you need actual tears to pull off the whole crying thing.”

  “Doesn’t matter though, does it?” I murmur, staring at the ground, my pale skin and light blue toenail polish stark against the floorboards. “The damage is already done.”

  Drake’s silence is telling.

  I’m going to be sick.

  A large hand brushes hair away from my face. I barely notice. What I do notice, however, is my credibility slipping further and further away from me. No one will take me seriously after this. I’ll forever be known as the guitarist who slept her way to stardom, the chick who couldn’t make it on her own, the girl stupid enough to follow her heart and not her head.

  Whore.

  Slut.

  I don’t need the headlines to read the lies. I don’t need the interview to know the deceit. Fuck, right this second Selena is playing the victim when it’s my career and the careers of my bandmates that are ruined. The hurt I’ve caused myself, I’ve caused for them too.

  All for a kiss.

  Was it worth it? Will the fallout from one moment of insanity be worth a void contract? A canceled tour? My band being labeled a joke?

  If our contract is canceled, there won’t be an album. If there’s no album, no one will buy our music. If no one buys our music, there’s no royalty check. And if there’s no royalty check….

  I choke back a sob.

  The hand that trails across my skin is soft, soothing. I brush it away; I’m not worthy of the comfort. I need to get out of here. I need time to think and regroup before I officially lose my shit.

  Without another thought, I stride from the room.

  Heavy footsteps thud behind me. I disregard them.

  “What are you doing?”

  I throw on some underwear and a bra.

  “Willow.”

  Shorts, and a T-shirt that’s actually mine.

  “Answer me.”

  Socks and my Converse high tops.

  Zeke grips my wrist as I walk past, intent on the bathroom. I wrench it away again. “Let go of me.”

  His jaw is tight, but he does as I ask.

  In the bathroom, I refuse to look at myself in the mirror. Something tells me I won’t like what I see. The woman staring back is a mockery to herself and her friends. She’s not a woman I’m proud of. She’s not the woman I want to be.

  With dogged determination, I focus on brushing my teeth. It’s difficult appearing occupied while secretly formulating a plan to steal Zeke’s car keys without him realizing. Heck, I even rinse my mouth four times before coming up with a viable plan. Thankfully, I don’t have to go through with it because there’s a thundering knock at the door that distracts Zeke from his unswerving glare.

  Food poisoning was never my jam anyway.

  “You don’t leave this house. Got it?” he growls.

  Silence.

  With a muttered curse, Zeke storms to the hallway. Once the front door is open, there’s yelling, the sound of someone being pushed against a wall, and further scuffling. I don’t have time to investigate further because Shiloh darts into the bedroom, her dark eyes wild.

  “Wil!” She tackle-hugs me, cutting off my air supply with her tight hold. My lips tingle.

  “Can’t. Breathe.”

  “Shit, sorry.” Loosening her hold, she peers into my face, concern etching her otherwise knockout features. “Girl, be honest with me. How far gone are you?”

  “I’d say I’ve reached stage three of a mental breakdown.” Lifting my right hand, I show her the tremors.

  “Fucking fuck.” She takes my hand in hers, rubbing it. “I’m gonna kill whoever leaked those photos. They were hot as fuck, don’t get me wrong. But damn, the timing was shit. Couldn’t Zeke wait until he got you in the car before sucking face? There was a fucking dumpster in the background. Fucking men. So da
mn impatient.” Pulling me after her, she mutters, “Come on, let’s get you out of here. Reid and Zeke are arguing, it’ll buy us some time.”

  “Buy us some time for what?”

  She throws a devious smile over her shoulder. “To escape.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Wherever you want.”

  “Reid’s going to lose it when he finds you missing.”

  “He’ll get over it. Besides,” her smirk is playful, “make-up sex is the best.”

  I’d laugh if I could. I do my best to conjure a grin, hoping it’ll get me halfway there. Sadly, the best I manage is the tiniest of mouth twitches.

  Shiloh’s smile dies. “This is worse than I thought. Come on.”

  She leads me past the two men. They’re so intent on throwing insults at each other they don’t notice us slip past. Once we’re outside, we run to Reid’s car and jump inside. With a roar of the engine, Shiloh speeds down the street.

  “Where to?”

  “Nursing home.”

  Nodding, my best friend turns her attention to the road. “You got it.”

  This is why I love her. It takes a special kind of friend to steal a car and act as my getaway driver when I need it most.

  “This place is a hole.”

  “Yep.”

  “Like, a really deep, shit-filled hole.”

  “Yep.”

  After turning off the ignition, Shiloh turns to me. “Want me to come inside with you?”

  As kind as the gesture is, I don’t want her seeing Mom. Her health has deteriorated so badly, and I want Shiloh to remember Mom as the woman she was, not the shadow she’s become. “Thanks, but I’d rather go in by myself.”

  Her tiny body sags in relief. “Thank God. I love you, Wil, I do, and if you wanted me with you, that’s where I’d be, but nursing homes stink like cabbage.” She shakes her head, dark hair falling about her shoulders. “Fucking hate cabbage.”

  With a snort, I exit the car. “Won’t be long.”

  “Take your time,” she calls to my retreating back.

  Jeanette isn’t working the desk. Since I’m later than usual, I figure she must be doing the breakfast rounds. After mentioning Mom’s name to the nurse behind the counter, I offer up some ID and am buzzed through. Slowly, I make my way to the familiar room.

  Like yesterday, Mom is asleep. She’s curled in a ball on her side, and I’d like to think there’s more color in her cheeks, but honestly can’t be sure. Maybe it’s a trick of the light? Dunno.

  I make quick work of tidying the place, setting some crystals to recharge, and opening the window a fraction. Fresh air filters into the room, bringing with it the scent of damp soil and salt. I close my eyes and allow the breeze to wash over me, fortify me, give me the strength I need to survive this day.

  It almost works.

  When I face Mom again, it’s with the realization she hasn’t moved. Her eyes are still shut, her breathing is even, and her tiny frame is in a fetal position. But I get the distinct impression she’s present, like she’s conscious and waiting for something. It’s as though she wants me to talk, share my worries and work through them with her. It’s the same feeling I got when I was a teen and she’d tilt her head to the side, waiting for me to tell her whatever was on my mind. Hera knows we’ve done this dance millions of times before. Since she’s the best person to share my problems with, I decide not to overthink the strangeness of it all, and do as she wants.

  “I’ve really screwed up, Mom.” My soft tread is barely audible as I move toward her bed. “You know how you said I was in the beginning stages of love?” The mattress dips as I sit by her side.

  Silence.

  “Well, it’s true. Kind of. I mean, I’m not in the beginning stages anymore, I’m….” I exhale a loud breath, staring at the discolored ceiling. Not finding any comfort in the mold stain overhead, I glance at the wool blanket and trace the intricate weave with my fingers.

  “A part of me wishes I was. It would make life so much easier.”

  Silence.

  I need to admit the truth, all of it. The ugly and the beautiful. I can’t continue pretending. It’s not healthy.

  “I’m in love with Zeke.” The declaration is rushed, my words a tumbled mess of ill-fitting vowels and consonants. They hover in the silence, awkwardly taking up space like an uninvited party guest.

  When the stillness becomes unbearable, I fill it with more self-torture. “And do you want to know the worst part?”

  Silence.

  “He’s never going to love me back.” My heart hurts. Needing to ease the pain, I rub my hand over the ache, only it doesn’t work because it’s still there. I have a terrible feeling it always will be.

  “I thought, maybe…. Last night he seemed so invested, you know? Like he’d fallen as hard as me. We shared something real. It transcended everything I thought I knew about love.” I shake my head. “But everything’s different now.”

  A fingernail gets caught on the yarn, and I tug, causing a small loop to form. I try to push it back in place, but it doesn’t fit. Sighing, I give up.

  “You see, our relationship has become public property. What a way to spook a man, huh? If he didn’t want to fall in love before, he definitely won’t now. I mean, complete strangers are probably judging our actions from thousands of miles away. Granted, we could have done things differently. Like, I could have waited until after the tour before throwing myself at him. And Zeke could have kept his damn teeth to himself when we were out in public.” At the memory of him biting my swollen flesh, I stifle a groan.

  It takes a moment to collect my thoughts, and when I next speak, my words are slow. “I had to chase the storm. There’s something about him that calls to me, you know?” I poke at the blanket. “I bet people are judging my intentions. They don’t know what I feel for Zeke, they don’t know the half of it. It’s a fundamental truth. It’s… it’s everything.”

  Dipping my head, I whisper, “He’s the man I want. He’s the other half to my whole. And I hate that this nightmare cheapened it.”

  Silence.

  Silence.

  Then, an epiphany.

  It’s huge, monumental even. I swear, the earth stalls, tilts, and realigns in a completely different spot.

  I know what I have to do.

  I’m going to make this right.

  Leaning forward, I press a gentle kiss on Mom’s cheek. “Thank you.” Her face is warm, and I take strength from it. The fact this woman is fighting a disease intent on killing her gives me courage.

  It’s time I fight too.

  After making sure Mom is comfortable and has everything she needs, I say goodbye. My footsteps boom as I race down the hallway and bound down the front steps. I launch into Reid’s car, slam the door shut, and turn to Shiloh. “Can I borrow your phone?” I hold out my hand.

  “Where’s yours?”

  “I forgot to bring it.”

  She’s staring at me, wide-eyed and no doubt wondering what the heck I want with it, but passes it over. “Um, okay.”

  “Thanks. Password?”

  “Sixty-nine, sixty-nine.”

  I stare at her.

  “What?”

  “Really?”

  “Hey, my man knows how to keep me satisfied. Sue me.”

  I snort. “You’re filthy.”

  “And proud of it. What are you looking for?”

  I ignore the billion and five missed calls from Reid, mumbling, “Not sure exactly, but when I find it, I’ll tell you.” It only takes a couple of minutes of scrolling through social media before a post captures my attention. Ruby hair falls into my eyes as I squint, looking closer. “Unbelievable.”

  “What?”

  Holding out the screen for Shiloh, I watch as her gaze narrows. “That bitch is unbelievable.” Shiloh meets my determined expression. “Look, I want her to pay as much as everyone else she’s fucked over, but are you sure about going up against her?”

  “Yes.�
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  “She’s gonna get her claws out.”

  “I know.”

  “And she’ll want to slice you with them.”

  “I’ve got nothing to lose, Shiloh. Think about it, what more can Selena possibly do that she hasn’t done already?”

  My friend considers the question, the tip of her tongue poking out the corner of her mouth. “She could say you’re pregnant with Zeke’s baby?” When I blanch, she clasps my leg. “Wait, you’re not, are you?”

  “No! Of course not.” I smack her hand away.

  “Thank fuck. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure Zeke’s a nice guy. Underneath all that asshole bullshit there’s bound to be a fuzzy teddy bear just waiting to be hugged, but he’s not ready to be a baby daddy.”

  Frustrated, I gesture to the phone still in my hand. “Can we get back on topic, please?”

  “You mean the one where you confront the woman intent on ruining your name because she’s a jealous, chlamydia-infected slapper desperate for coin?”

  “How do you know she needs money?”

  Shiloh rolls her eyes. “The woman sold her story to The Daily. That site screams desperation.”

  “Fair point.”

  My friend rubs her hands together, bouncing up and down in her seat with excitement. “So, how’s this all going down?”

  Nibbling my bottom lip, I think. “First, I need to know what payback I want. Then I need to figure out how I’m going to get it.”

  “Obviously.”

  It doesn’t take long for a plan to form in my head. It’s risky, and there’s every chance it’s going to blow up in my face, but if it works, it’ll undo most of the damage Selena’s caused.

  “How long will it take to get to The Royal Grace?” I ask, referring to Bayside’s premier five-star hotel.

  Shiloh looks from the phone to my face and breaks into a mischievous grin. “With my killer driving skills? Under ten minutes.”

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  When she manages to hit every bump, crack, and pothole in her haste to get to our destination, I second, third, and fourth guess my decision to get in the car with her. As nerve-wracking as a potential confrontation with Selena is, it’s not nearly as terrifying as my friend speeding into oncoming traffic.

  “For the love of Adiona,” I shriek, the blast of a nearby horn almost drowning me out. “Slow down.”