by Amity Cross
“Oh…”
“Everything that’s hurt you is because of my fame,” I replied sharply. “It almost cost you your life, Juniper. How can I continue down that path knowing that next time—” I broke off abruptly, my throat burning.
“Sebastian, it’s not anything you did,” she argued. “None of what happened to us is your fault.”
“That’s a lie. A lot of it was.”
“We were just trying to be together so we could see if this thing worked. It was everyone else who seemed to think they owned you.”
Mallory, Vix, that crazed fan… They all thought I belonged to them. Maybe Juniper was right about that, but where else could I assign blame? I was the man and the image. All of that was my choice, and those choices had repercussions.
“After everything you did to try to save Beneath… are you really sure your doubts aren’t coming from a place of guilt?” she asked.
Her question hit the nail on the head and I tensed.
When I didn’t answer, she added, “Because you have nothing to feel guilty about. I don’t blame you for the things that’ve happened to us or the things I did—like the sex tape—I’ve forgiven you for. Nothing you did put me in that hospital.”
“The sex tape was fucked-up as it was,” I said. “But you getting—” The words caught in my throat. “I held you in my arms, Juniper. There was so much blood… I thought you were dead, and that woman was fixated on you because of me.”
“Hey,” she murmured, wrapping her hands around mine. I could see her engagement ring glittering in the light—my promise to her, but could I keep it? “I’m alive, Sebastian. We lost a part of ourselves, but we’re both still here. We’re getting married.” Her grip tightened. “We’ve got all these amazing plans, remember?”
The recording studio and the charity. Rescheduling Beneath’s European tour. Making new music. Getting married. Finding a new house to live in. She was right. We had so many things on our horizon.
“Things are tough right now, but there’s so much to look forward to,” she went on. “You need to fix things with the band. Tell them what you’ve been going through.”
“Damon’s pissed,” I said with a moan. “He’s the most stubborn arsehole I’ve ever known. It’ll be months before I see him again.”
“Then I’ll go see him,” Juniper declared. “He may be on his sister’s side by default, but he can’t just go around punching people because of false rumours. He should know better than to believe everything reads online.”
I grunted. “I’d give it a day.”
“Duh. I’ve seen enough of Damon’s ego to know where the blast radius is.” Her journal was sitting on the coffee table, and she reached for it. She winced slightly as she bent a little too far to snatched the book up. “Here. I’ve been working on some ideas for the recording studio.”
I took the journal from her and leafed through the pages. She’d written down a bunch of ideas in her flowing script and even sketched a few rough drawings. There were plans for programs for underprivileged kids, merchandise, and an online store for fundraising. Charity anthologies with tracks written by the kids in her proposed program and recorded at the studio—there was more, but my head was spinning with those few points.
“You came up with all this?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged. “I was going to binge watch all six seasons of Gossip Girl, but I thought this might be better use of my couch time.”
“It’s incredible,” I whispered.
“I don’t know much about recording studios, other than what I’ve Googled.” She hit me softly on the arm. “Hey, you’re connected. Do you know someone who’d show me?”
“Show you how a studio works?” I asked, tilting my head to the side.
“Yeah. I’m sure you can hire people to do all this stuff, but I want to be a part of it. I want to get my hands dirty and knowing how things work is a big part of making it a success.”
I smiled, the movement betraying just how bruised my cheek was going to be in the morning. Had Juniper finally found the thing that made her tick? Was her true calling this studio and the charity we wanted to run alongside it? I hoped so, because I wanted her to be happy. Either way, working on it was keeping her mind occupied and off the shooting and the loss of our baby.
“We’ve recorded in Sydney a bunch of times,” I said. “I know a guy who might be able to show you some stuff. I can give him a call if you want.”
“Yeah? That’d be great.”
I wrapped my arm around her and breathed in her scent. At least something was working out today.
“I love you,” I murmured, my lips brushing against the copper stubble on the side of her head. “I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”
“Me too,” she whispered. “Hey, can you make me a promise?”
“Anything.”
“Talk to the guys. They’re your family first.”
I sighed and my fingers found the ring on her finger. I twirled it around, dwelling on the promise I’d made her when I’d asked her to marry me and the things she said she wanted the night she was attacked. Family was important.
Finally, I agreed, “Okay.”
11
Juniper
The next day, Statfield drove me to see Damon.
I was surprised to find that the handsome, roguish rock star lived on a rural property outside of the city. He had ten acres of land, with a traditional Australian-style homestead sitting smack in the middle. Surrounded by gum, wattle, and bottlebrush trees, you’d never think it was barely an hour from the centre of Sydney. A large garage stood to the right of the house and a matching shed was behind it, making me wonder what he did with the rest of the land.
When Statfield opened the car door for me, I breathed in deeply. It smelled like warm eucalyptus and earth.
The front door opened, and Damon appeared. He jogged across the wide porch, the wire door slapping closed behind him, and hopped down the stairs. I crossed the yard to meet him, my gaze bouncing around the landscape.
The Australian bush was a unique kind of vista with its earthy tones and scents. The trees were filled with the trilling of parrots and the screeching of a flock of silver-crested cockatoos. It so didn’t match the roguish drummer of Beneath.
“Juniper!” Damon smiled as he approached, but I sensed some of the apprehension Sebastian had said he’d have. He’d taken that tabloid gossip to heart, just as I’d been warned.
“When I heard you lived out here, I thought it was a joke,” I said. “But here you are.”
“No one can hear me drumming out here,” he said with a shrug. He held out his arm and gestured for me to take it.
I laughed and grasped his proffered bicep. “Don’t you worry about the snakes?”
“Not really. They hang around, but there’s a snake guy you can call to come get them.”
“You say that like they aren’t the deadliest creatures in the entire world.”
He grinned as he led me towards the house, our shoes crunching against the gravel. “It’s the Aussie way, isn’t it? She’ll be right?”
“Is that your approach to security, too?” I raised my eyebrows.
“I’m the drummer. I’m low on the band hierarchy, so no one cares what I do. From most popular to least, it goes lead singer, lead guitarist, bassist, drummer. I don’t need security.”
“It bothers me.” I looked around the grounds—there was only open space for what felt like miles and miles.
“The only thing we have to worry about out here is snakes and bushfires.” He gestured to the rolling hills that were covered in a thick blanket of gum trees and scrub. “Look at this place. A fire hasn’t been through here in decades and if one does, I’ve got a state-of-the-art sprinkler system. There’re four giant rainwater tanks and another hooked up to the dam out back.”
“I’m not worried about bushfires,” I muttered.
We made our way onto the wide porch that wrapped its way around the ent
ire house. A plush outdoor setting was lined up along the walls and Damon helped me sit, holding me like I was going to break. He didn’t need to, but it was amusing to see him be gentle for once in his life.
“Is he going to be okay out there?” He nodded towards Statfield, who’d remained by the car. The muscled American was leaning against the bonnet, his gaze turned towards the view and away from the house.
“Yeah,” I replied, watching my burly bodyguard. “He wouldn’t come over, even if you bribed him.”
“So why the house visit?” Damon asked, sitting a few cushions away from me. He reached into the crease and pulled out a pair of drumsticks. It was odd, and I raised my eyebrows. “I’m surprised you came, since you’re best mates with the enemy and everything.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever, Damon.”
“Mallory went to visit you. It was all over the papers, you know.”
“Of course it was,” I drawled.
“So? You spying now?” He flipped one of the drumsticks in his hand.
“Mallory used my attack as leverage to further her feud with your sister, and to boost her goodie-goodie pop princess profile,” I exclaimed. “You’re a talented guy, Damon, but fuck, sometimes you can be seriously stupid. Mallory Grigorio hasn’t got a compassionate bone in her entire body.”
His brow furrowed, and I could see the cogs turning in his head. After a moment, he seemed to compute the notion that all news wasn’t reality, especially when it came to Stargazers.
“Ah, fuck. I punched Seb,” he said, thrusting his hand through his inky black hair.
“I know.” I surpassed the urge to snatch away one of the drumsticks and smack him in the head with it.
“Hard, too.”
“I don’t know what’s going on between your sister and Mallory, but someone has to end the circle, or they’ll just keep going around and around, hurting everyone and everything in their path for the ultimate revenge. They’ve tried to drag me and Seb into it too many times.”
“Then help me,” Damon pleaded. “Fucked if I know how to stop Victoria from imploding.”
“Why do I have to be the one who always swoops in and saves the day? I want nothing to do with their fight. I won’t be a fucking tool in their war. I thought I’d made myself clear when I tossed that USB drive.”
“Then why are you here?”
“To set the record straight so you can get over it and help Sebastian.”
“But she’s my sister. What am I supposed to do when she comes crying to me? Juniper, please.”
I shook my head. “Your sister is just as bad as Mallory, Damon. She’s baited me several times already.”
“But deep down she’s a good person. She’s just caught up in things so bad, and I don’t know if she knows how to get out of it. It’s a constant competition to keep on top. Not just with Mallory, but her work, too.”
“What started all of this?” I sighed and cursed my bleeding heart. “Do I even want to know?”
“A guy,” he drawled.
“Typical. Who is it?” I don’t know why I was asking the question when I already suspected the answer, but it was one of those situations where I had to hear it from somebody else—because it was too unbelievable otherwise.
“Seb,” Damon said sheepishly.
“Typical,” I said again.
“I think the same thing sometimes.” He flipped his drumstick around in his hand. “He’s the entire fucking package.”
I narrowed my eyes and fingered my engagement ring. “He’s also mine.”
“Of course he is, but you weren’t around back then.”
I was well aware Sebastian had a past—chequered and laced with women—but I didn’t want to think about it, let alone have an eyewitness account. Still, if I wanted to figure out what was going on with this sordid feud and stop it from spreading back to Sebastian and me, then I supposed I had to hear it.
“Then tell me about it,” I said through a heavy sigh. “Hit me with your best shot.”
“Victoria has had a crush on Seb since forever,” Damon began. “She went to all our early shows and talked us up to all her model friends and contacts. She started modelling at fifteen, can you believe it? Started walking with all the big Australian designers. But before that, she was modelling our merch, helping sell it at shows, and was our biggest fan. She followed Seb around like a lost puppy, but he never noticed her—not even once. He had a lot going on in his life back then. He was working non-stop, going to TAFE, and his mum was sick. My sister was the last thing he was interested in.” He flipped his drumstick again, like it was a nervous twitch. “Then we got bigger, and she started getting noticed internationally. We were signed, and things really took off. At the same time, she hit it big overseas, which was when she met Mallory.”
“That’s how Mallory became friends with Vix?”
He nodded. “And by extension, met Seb, but when she bagged him, it became an all-out war.”
“Mallory knew about Victoria’s feelings,” I said, putting two and two together.
Even though their relationship had been fake, and orchestrated by Vix, Mallory had used it to lord it over her friend. Why? Who knew. Maybe because she thrived on making other people feel small and useless so she didn’t feel as bad about her lack of talent. It’d only take one little push to shatter her fame, but the pop princess had become such a pro at manipulation, nothing had budged her. There hadn’t even been a chance, until Victoria had tried to use me that night she gave me that USB.
“Oh, she knew,” Damon said.
“Sebastian really gets around, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah, he did, but he’s yours now. This is all old hack.”
“Does he know? I know you said he didn’t notice her, but…”
“Did he know that Victoria had a crush on him?” He shook his head. “Nope.”
I snorted, more at the irony of the ‘frenemies’ feud than anything to do with me. Why be friends with someone if your relationship was built on thinly veiled attacks on one another? I didn’t think I’d ever understand. I’d never have the patience to put up with it, but I did get the part where I’d walked right into the middle of a battlefield.
Mallory was revelling in her attempts to destroy me, and Victoria was content to let her and even help her rival, if it meant one less competitor for Sebastian’s affections. It didn’t even matter that he wasn’t interested—things had gone far beyond that now.
“Oh, hell,” I cursed, letting my head fall into my hands.
“What?” Damon asked, sitting up. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, it’s just…” I sighed and wished they’d just leave me the hell alone. “Mallory knows Sebastian and I are engaged.”
“And? At least she hasn’t leaked it to the tabloids.”
“All the things she’s done to us is because she thinks I stole Sebastian from her.”
“Oh…” His mouth formed an ‘o’ shape. “And Victoria is in on it. One less rival.”
“You need to talk to your sister,” I said. “I don’t know what I could do to convince her to let this shit go. It isn’t like I’ve tried to before. She’s a beautiful and successful woman in her own right. She doesn’t need someone like Mallory to mess it up for her.”
“I know. It’s hard to get her to see it sometimes. It’s like she’s too busy trying to keep up.” He peered at me, his gaze moving to the scar on my head. “How are things with you?”
“I know chicks dig scars, but do guys dig them, too?” I asked with a note of sarcasm.
“The haircut is pretty bad arse.”
I smoothed my palm over the stubble on my head and nodded. “I always wanted to cut my hair like this, but I was too chicken shit. It’s kind of ironic it was a scrub nurse who was the one to finally chop it off.”
“Is it sore?” he asked. “Your scars?”
“They’re tender. Sometimes they ache, and I have to be careful not to bump them. But I have special cream to rub into th
em.”
He glanced away, flipping the drumsticks again.
“Hey…” he said after a moment.
“Yeah?”
“Seb said… Well, he said you were pregnant.”
I tensed and pressed my hand against my stomach. It was more to do with the dull throb that pulsed through my scar than any phantom fluttering, but the movement had Damon scrambling.
“I’m sorry. We didn’t know, and I punched him, and things blew up. He kind of shouted it at us…”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I didn’t know either.”
He blinked, giving away that he was out of his depth. I was talking to a playboy rock star after all.
“Just as long as it doesn’t get spread about, then don’t worry about it,” I went on. “I can’t change it. It is what it is.”
“I guess I understand why Seb was thinking of leaving the band,” he muttered. “I mean, it’s our lifestyle that—”
“Don’t,” I interrupted. “I’ve gone over it so many times in my head, but there’s no one to blame for this.”
His brow furrowed. “No one?”
“No one.” I was sure he didn’t believe me, but it was my choice. “It’s hard enough dealing with the aftermath of something like this without having your family gang up on you,” I added. “Cut Sebastian some slack. It’s only been six weeks since he saw me get shot.”
“I didn’t think about it that way,” Damon said, looking thoughtful.
“You guys were there, but he saw it happen,” I murmured. “I think it’s been harder for him than it has been for me. I was comatose for most of it. He blamed himself, you know.”
We fell into an uneasy silence. The only sounds were the screeching from a flock of red parrots in the bottlebrush trees and a dull droning from traffic that buzzing up and down the highway. The city had found us, even out here.
“Hey, Juni?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad he found you, you know.”
I smiled and snatched the drumstick from Damon’s hand. “Me, too.”
That night, I lay awake thinking about Damon. Not in a creepy way, but in a ‘I didn’t know there was anything that deep about the guy’ way.