Pause (ROCK HARD Book 2)

by Kat Mizera

  “But you did,” I said quietly. “I mean, the first time. You asked me to fuck you.”

  “Because I’d never done it,” she said. “I wanted to see what it was like, and if we’re being honest, it was mostly because it was you. Stu Killorn, my rock and roll crush. I don’t think that would’ve happened with anyone else.”

  “And now?” I reached out to trail my fingers along the curve of her hip.

  “Now…it’s up to you. Me being faithful isn’t a thing; it’s a given. Can you be faithful to me?”

  I swallowed. I wanted to say yes. I never ever wanted to hurt her, but I wasn’t a hundred percent sure I could do it. I’d never been put to the test since Lisa had been attached to me at the hip back when we’d been together. Lindsay wasn’t Lisa, though, and she deserved for me to do my damnedest to be the man she thought I was. “I think I can,” I said at last. “I mean, I didn’t sleep with anyone else after the first time we slept together because I couldn’t stop thinking about you, so I have no intention of being with anyone else now that we’re a couple.”

  “That’s all any of us can expect.”

  “You deserve better than me, lass,” I said quietly. “You know that, don’t you? You’re scraping the bottom of the barrel with me.”

  “Stop that.” She scowled. “You are an amazing human being. But human is the operative word. You’re human, which means you’re fallible and make mistakes. You made a terrible one, but you’ve risen above. You’re talented, kind, and generous. You love your grandmother more than I love mine, that’s for sure. And—”

  “Why?” I asked, interrupting her. I was never comfortable being complimented about anything other than my guitar playing, but I also was curious because I couldn’t imagine a world where I wasn’t close to my grandmother.

  “She’s…” She wrinkled her nose. “Difficult. She hates everything, everybody. And it’s not just because she’s old. She’s always been like that, even when I was little. If I got dirty from playing outside, she yelled and berated me for not being ladylike. If I dressed up in a pretty dress and wore makeup, I was a vain little slut. Going to law school was a huge waste of money—women go to college to find husbands. She’s truly the most mean-spirited, judgmental person I’ve ever known. This is my mom’s mom. My dad’s mom was sweet but she died when I was ten, so I don’t remember much. My dad’s father died before I was born and my mom’s dad is remarried and living in New Jersey. I don’t have much of a relationship with him because my mom doesn’t. She sided with her mother in the divorce and they’re not close.”

  “Christ. I lucked out in that department, I guess. I didn’t know my mum’s parents, they were killed in a car accident before I was born, but my dad’s parents were the best and I can’t imagine my life without Gran.”

  “And you’re trying to distract me.” She smiled, leaning forward to press her lips to mine. “You are an amazing man, Stuart Killorn, and I’m honored to be in your life, so don’t shortchange yourself.”

  “You’re a special lass, Lindsay, and I’m the one that’s honored.”

  25

  Lindsay

  The more I’d learned about the accident that changed Stu’s life, the more it felt like I was missing something, so instead of bugging him to talk about it, I’d decided to get the information myself. I’d asked Madeline to help me and it only took her a couple of days to get me the transcript of Stu’s trial. For reasons I couldn’t explain, I needed to know the details, and since he wouldn’t talk about them, I got the information on my own. Deep down, I had a feeling there was a lot more to the story, things the public wasn’t necessarily privy to, but those things would have come out during the trial.

  With Stu busy with rehearsals, I pulled up the documents on my laptop and started to read. The beginning was horrible, describing the scene of the accident, Freddie’s bloody body, and how they’d found Stu unconscious next to it. It was odd to me that Freddie hadn’t been wearing a seat belt when they found him in the passenger seat. Would he have unhooked it and then just lay there dying?

  The more I read, the more confused I got.

  Until Stu got on the stand. Then I was glued to the pages, taking in every word.

  Defense Attorney Williams: Mr. Killorn, can you tell us exactly what happened on the night of twelfth of August?

  Stuart Killorn: The band and I were at a party. Earlier that day I’d picked up my brand-new Ferrari and everyone had been walking outside all night to look at it. Around ten thirty, we ran out of Glenmorangie, which was our drink. Freddie said we needed to get some, and we could take the new car. I argued with him a bit, but I’d had a lot to drink, and eventually I agreed. We were at a friend’s house on Laurel Canyon, and he picked up speed. He took a corner too fast and we spun out, going over the side. We flipped over several times and landed in some bushes on the mountainside. I must have passed out for a few seconds but when I came to, Freddie was moaning. There was a lot of blood. For some reason, I was banged up but okay. He looked bad, though, so I unhooked my seat belt and got out. I went around to the driver’s side and helped him with his seat belt, but there was blood everywhere; he was spitting up…so I tried to go up to the road to flag down help, but I couldn’t make it. It was too steep. I went back down to the car, hoping to find either of our phones, and Freddie had crawled into the passenger seat. I don’t know what he’d been trying to do, because he’d passed out at that point, but…

  There was more but I’d stopped reading.

  Stu hadn’t been driving.

  I knew it. I hadn’t known the details, what or why I felt that way, but somehow I’d known he wouldn’t have gotten behind the wheel that drunk. There was plenty of blame to go around—he shouldn’t have given Freddie the keys either—but there was a difference in driving drunk and being a passenger of someone driving drunk.

  The prosecutor had gone at him hard but Stu never wavered in his testimony—he hadn’t been behind the wheel. There was some corroborating evidence, but not enough to win over the jury. The coroner said Freddie’s injuries almost definitely would have prevented him from unbuckling his seat belt, but there was a small possibility. His neck had been broken but the spinal cord hadn’t been severed, so there were a lot of details that made things sketchy.

  I believed Stu, mostly because I’d always known there was more to the story, and now I knew what it was. And it frustrated the hell out of me. When they called him a murderer on social media, it wasn’t just malicious, it was wrong. Angus made such a big deal out of what Stu had done, but according to his testimony, Angus and Gavin both knew Stu wasn’t driving.

  Defense Attorney Williams: Mr. Roberts, were you outside when Stu and Freddie left for the liquor store?

  Angus Roberts: I can’t recall. I had a lot to drink.

  Defense Attorney Williams: Do you recall Freddie asking to drive the new Ferrari?

  Angus Roberts: Early in the evening, yes.

  Defense Attorney Williams: So even though several guests recall seeing you go outside with Stu, Freddie, and Gavin, you don’t remember who was driving?

  Angus Roberts: Like I said, I drank too much. I don’t remember much about that night except waking up to the news that my best friend was dead.

  Gavin, for some reason, hadn’t testified. Supposedly he’d been in rehab during the trial and had given a sworn affidavit that he’d been blackout-drunk and didn’t remember anything. Which rubbed me the wrong way, especially after the things he’d said at the pub in Dingwall that night. I would have bet everything I owned that he remembered more than he let on, and it pissed me off that he’d let Stuart go to prison rather than tell the truth.

  I didn’t know anything for sure, though, which frustrated me even more. Stu had given Freddie’s parents a million dollars in damages but he hadn’t been driving. He’d spent almost a year in prison for a crime he didn’t commit and lived with the guilt and repercussions every day. It didn’t seem fair and the part of me that loved him as much as I did
, wanted to fix this. Gavin’s apology wasn’t enough—he needed to make a public statement about what he’d seen. Stu had to ask him to, though, and I had a feeling he wouldn’t.

  I also had a weird feeling he wouldn’t be happy I’d read the transcripts of the trial. Madeline had even gotten a hold of the crime scene photos, which literally brought tears to my eyes. The whole thing was awful, but Stu was still alive and he’d suffered far more than Freddie. That night still haunted him so many years later and the press seemed to have a hard-on for him, bringing it up over and over. Though it hadn’t impacted Nobody’s Fool to date, and his crisis management publicist had done a good job getting him through it initially, it never went away completely. Other celebrities who’d done bad things, especially when they were accidents, seemed to get a pass.

  I planned to talk to Madeline about it when I had a chance. Unfortunately, Stu and I were so busy in the days leading up to the band going on tour, I didn’t have a chance. I also hadn’t told him what I knew because I didn’t think it would serve any purpose unless I had a plan in place, which was almost impossible.

  I couldn’t reach Gavin, though I could probably reach out to Stephen and he might be able to get in touch with him. Then there was the matter of convincing him to tell the truth, but since I didn’t know exactly what Gavin’s truth was, that was tricky too.

  By the time the band left to go on tour, I’d been mulling it around for over a week and still hadn’t worked up the nerve to bring it up to Stu. However, now that I was in L.A. and working with Madeline, I had a lot more time to come up with a plan, so I brought it up to her the night I moved into her amazing Beverly Hills home. I’d settled into her guest house and then we’d gone to dinner.

  “I’d like to co-sign a loan for you to lease a car,” she said once we’d sat down. “You can’t ride with me every day. Not that I mind, but if you’re going to be successful, you have to play the part. How’s your credit?”

  I almost choked on my glass of wine. “It’s fine,” I replied, “but I don’t have much in the way of credit. I have a bank account and a credit card, but I don’t charge much. I make my payments on time but I’ve never had much money to spend since I’ve been in school my whole life. The money I made in the summers was used to survive during the school year.”

  She nodded. “So I’ll give you a small advance on your first month’s salary and co-sign a loan if they require it, so you can get a good, reliable car. You’ll spend a lot of time in it here in L.A., so you need something as reliable as it is comfortable.”

  “My parents are selling my old Honda,” I told her. “So I’ll get four or five hundred coming in soon that I can use for a used car and maybe—”

  She shook her head. “You’re now an attorney at Aronson & Phillippe. No one drives an old Honda or buys a car where five hundred dollars qualifies as a down payment. You’re in the big time now, and you have to play the part. Not to mention, your boyfriend is in a band that’s going to take off—mark my words, Nobody’s Fool is going places and as his girlfriend, you’re going to be in the spotlight too. They’re going to want to know who the woman in his life is.”

  This was the perfect opening and I brought up what had been on my mind. “Do you think his past is going to hurt me professionally?”

  “You mean that he’s a felon?” She shrugged. “You wouldn’t be the first lawyer to fall for a bad boy, but in this case, it was an accident. It’s not like you’re dating Charles Manson.”

  I grimaced. “God, no. But listen, I learned some interesting stuff with those transcripts you sent me.”

  “He didn’t do it.” Madeline smiled.

  I arched my brows in confusion. “You knew?”

  “Sweetheart, like I said, I’m the founding partner of Aronson & Phillippe—we don’t take clients until they’re thoroughly vetted. And even though technically Casey Hart is my client, the band represents her and vice versa, so if I thought there was a bad apple in the bunch, we wouldn’t be here.”

  “Did you vet me as well?”

  “Of course, I did.”

  “So you know I’m broke and have limited experience.”

  “But you’re incredibly bright, creative, and have a kind soul. All of those things matter. Frankly, I spoke to several of your law school professors and they thought your talents were wasted on mergers and acquisitions.”

  I was surprised. “You talked to my professors?”

  “Full background check, Lindsay. I’ve brought you into both my home and my firm. You’re damn right I did.”

  I was taken aback. Not mad, but completely taken by surprise. It had never occurred to me she would do that.

  “I see the wheels turning,” she said, laughing. “Listen, we already talked about this but I know you’re still wondering why, and the truth is, everyone and their brother wants to work for my firm. It’s exhausting, the number of résumés that come in. On paper, they’re a dime a dozen. Harvard Law. Yale. Princeton. Summer jobs clerking for judges or interning at other firms. Sixteen hundred on their SAT’s. Four billion on the ACT… It’s all just numbers and words. We can name ten politicians who went to Harvard who are complete idiots and couldn’t litigate their way out of a paper bag. So I need more. I need heart, soul, and a personal connection. Would any of those Harvard graduates be good? I’m sure. But how long would it take me to figure out they’re not just studious, but trustworthy and passionate and actually give a damn about our clients?”

  “Do you handpick all your attorneys?”

  “Absolutely. Handpicked my partner too. Rhonda Phillippe is an even bigger bitch than I am, and that says something. But she’s honest, loyal, and gives a damn about both the clients and the law. It’s important.”

  “So you’re only a bitch when you’re in lawyer mode.”

  Madeline let out a whoop of laughter. “You’ve got me pegged, but since I’m in lawyer mode ninety-eight percent of the time, that’s a lot of bitchiness to put up with.”

  “I’m ready.”

  She cocked her head. “You know you’re not, right? You know that you’re about to embark on the most difficult journey of your life.”

  “Am I? I mean, there’s so much to learn, but I’m up to the task.”

  “What I’m going to be teaching you, beyond passing the California bar, isn’t anything you learn in a book. This industry will chew you up, spit you out, and then step on you. Hollywood is bad but the music biz is worse in some ways. You’ll find sexism, racism, classism—it’s all there in spades. And then add the legal stuff and you’re hitting all the buttons. You’re a woman. You’re white. You’re middle class. And you’re representing some of the most spoiled, snot-nosed musicians in the world. Sure, there will be the occasional Casey Hart or Ariel Fox, who are rich and successful and actually nice, but more often, you’re going to find shitheads who yell and scream and talk down to you. You’re going to go against other attorneys who think those of us in the entertainment world have cushy little jobs and steal all their money.

  “And sleeping with Stu Killorn? Oh, honey, you have no idea what’s about to come when the groupies of the world find out he’s off the market.”

  I swallowed. I knew this stuff intellectually, but emotionally it was overwhelming. “Are you trying to scare me off?”

  “No. I’m giving you a more detailed description of why I chose you, why I’m spoiling you, why I invited you into my home. I can’t find someone like you every day. Someone who actually has the brains and education to be what I need, because let’s face it—I’m not getting any younger. I’m fifty-five, and while I’m not ready to go out to pasture, I don’t plan to be busting my ass like this for twenty more years. In five years, I may be ready to slow down and turn work over to my protégés. Maybe one of them will be you.”

  Our eyes met and I nodded, suddenly filled with excitement, my brain overflowing with ideas. “I’m ready,” I said firmly. “And I have an idea for something that I’d like to run by you. It’s more pe
rsonal than professional, but it’s both.”

  “Sure.”

  “I think it would do Stu a lot of good if people heard his side of the story. Because my gut told me he wasn’t driving, but I didn’t know for sure until I read the transcripts. And I think it’s bullshit that no one spoke up.”

  “He was found guilty in a court of law.” She paused. “Twice. Both criminal and civil.”

  “The civil suit was bullshit. They never would have gotten anything if he hadn’t been found guilty in criminal court.”

  “But he was.”

  “But he didn’t do it!”

  “A jury of his peers thought otherwise. And besides, what purpose does it serve? He did his time and he’ll never get back that money.”

  “Peace of mind. His reputation. The nightmares he still has about prison.”

  “The nightmares will never go away. His reputation will only be partially redeemed because some people will never believe his side of the story. I can’t speak to his peace of mind, but I’m pretty sure there’s a reason he’s never done an Oprah interview or something, telling his side of the story. I’d tread carefully, Lindsay. I know you care about him and want to help, but I don’t know how this will go over.”

  I frowned. “How can it be a bad thing when I want to help? I have to get in touch with his old singer, Gavin. I think he saw more than he’s telling and he’s in some twelve-step program now where he’s supposed to make amends. What better way to make amends than to tell the truth?”

  “I think you’re asking for trouble, but I also have no doubt you’re going to do it no matter what I say.”

  I grinned at her. “Sometimes you have to show people what’s good for them.”

  She motioned to the waiter. “We’re going to need another bottle of wine.”

  26

  Stu