The Complete Rockstar Series

by Heather C. Leigh

  “God that smells good.” My mouth is watering for a taste. “I missed lunch at work so I’m starved.”

  “You know that’s not good for you, skipping meals.” Mum gives me a stern look. Then she grabs a couple of wine glasses and some biscuits and hands them to me. “Get the white wine out of the fridge and we’ll chat while dinner cools.”

  I pull out a somewhat pricey bottle and obediently fill our glasses. We sit at the small table that divides her kitchen from her lounge. She sips at her wine, staring at me while I eat my biscuit, as if waiting for me to say something.

  “What?” My hands brush at my mouth. “Have I got something on my face?”

  “Huh? No,” she laughs. “Not at all, love.”

  “Why are you looking at me funny?”

  “I’m not, Ellie? You’re dreaming things up.”

  I take a sip of my wine and decide that it’s much better than the cheap stuff I usually get, making a mental note to check out the label so I can buy some later. When I look back up, my mum is staring at me oddly again.

  “Okay, that’s it. What’s with the look? Don’t tell me it’s nothing. You’ve made my favorite dinner, you bought a bottle of posh wine, and now you’re looking at me queerly. What’s going on?” I put my hands on the table and give her a petulant look.

  My mum sighs and puts her glass down, but not before taking a giant gulp of wine first. “I wanted to talk after dinner, but you’re just too observant.”

  I chuckle sarcastically, “That’s strange because I feel as if I’m the most unobservant person on Earth. Just today, Agnes at work told me that everyone knows I don’t want to marry James and…”

  The hair on my arms stands at attention at my unintentional admission, and my mum’s eyebrows have shot up into her hairline. I’ve broken out into a light sweat even though it’s February and not that warm in here.

  “Ummmm…” is all I can come up with to say.

  “It’s about time,” my mum says in a manner that one would use to ask you to pass the potatoes. ‘Oh look, pass the potatoes, and it’s about time you broke off your sham engagement’.

  “What?” Now it’s my turn to look shocked.

  She clucks her tongue at me and waves me off with her hand. “I’ve known for ages that you don’t want to marry James. It’s about time you’ve admitted it to yourself. That boy’s not stupid either, he knows it as well. He just doesn’t want it to be over. Not on his end, anyway.”

  I pick up my wine and quickly gulp down the entire drink. Then I get up, fetch the bottle from the fridge, refilling my drink to the top edge of the glass. Then I plunk the bottle down in the middle of the table.

  “What do I do? It’s so complicated. I mean, I live with him, Mum. He saved my life, twice. I owe him so much. I love him, I’m just not in love with him,” I confess.

  She’s the first person I’ve ever said this to out loud. I’ve never had anyone else to confide in, not since Kate and that was so long ago that I can’t even remember what having a close friend feels like. Honestly, now that I really think about it, I don’t have any friends, only James and my mum.

  Mum reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “It’s not going to be easy, dear. It never is. But can you live with the mistake for the rest of your life?”

  “I don’t know.” I run my finger around the top of the wine glass as I think. “I don’t know how to be alone. I always had you and dad, then James. What if I can’t do it by myself?”

  “Listen here, Ellie!” My mum slaps her palm on the table top to accent her harsh tone, making my eyes snap up to meet her blazing blue ones. “Who do you think ran the house after your dad died and I was ill? Who gave up her scholarship to an American university and went to school and worked and took care of her mum at the young age of eighteen? Who overcame that brutal attack and finished her dream of becoming a nurse even though she had to take two years off to get herself together after what that bastard did?”

  I suck in a sharp breath at her speech, then feel the burn of tears behind my eyes.

  “You’re stronger than you think you are, El. I know it and now you know it. So stop feeling like you need James around to keep you from falling apart. It’s you who keeps us from falling apart. It’s always been that way, you just can’t see it.”

  I wait a moment to see if her rant is over. When she doesn’t say anything else I say the only thing I can think of, “Thank you, Mum.”

  She smiles and hands me a napkin to wipe up the few tears that have escaped. “Now,” she says, “let’s talk about why I really asked you to come here.” I look at her warily. I forgot we never got to her ulterior motive. “I’ve met someone and he’s asked me to move in with him. I said yes.”

  Holy hell, that is so not what I thought she was going to say. She uses the same nonplussed tone that she did when she mentioned me not being in love with James.

  “What?” I squeal. My engagement is falling apart and now my mum is shacking up? She never even told me she was dating anyone! It’s so bizarre and otherworldly that I start laughing. It must be contagious because Mum laughs with me and the two of us continue in hysterics until dinner gets cold.

  Lucky for us it tastes just as good reheated because after a night like this, there was no way in hell I wasn’t having some of that pie.

  33

  Adam

  “Sorry mate, I can’t make it.” Dax grunts and raises an accusatory eyebrow at me.

  “Bros before hos, isn’t that what they say here?” Dax asks.

  I chuckle at his sad attempt at American sarcasm. “I believe that is what they say,” I agree, “but I promised Kiera I’d take her to her movie premiere. It’s her first big role and she needs me to be there.”

  Dax rolls his eyes and huffs loud enough for me to hear. Oh Christ, this again?

  “What?” I snap. “If you’ve got something to say, then say it.”

  He stomps over to me, stopping when he’s only a few inches away. His huge shoulders are hunched over so we’re almost eye-to-eye. “Alright, you want to know what I think? I think she’s using you for your name, for the exposure. She’s a star-fucker and she’s a bitch. I can’t stand her, Adam.”

  Dax crosses his arms over his chest and gives me a look that dares me to argue with him. I can’t, of course, because he’s right. Kiera is a bitch, and she is most likely using me for my name. I can’t explain to Dax that I feel like I deserve someone like her, that I’m not worthy of someone good, someone like Ellie. I’m sure that any good psychiatrist could figure out why I’m with Kiera. She looks so much like Ellie it’s scary, certainly Dax has noticed it, he just hasn’t said anything. I know damn well that I’m with her to punish myself.

  “So what if she’s using me. I really don’t care. Ever think that I’m using her?”

  Dax shakes his head, “I have thought that. I know what you’re doing and it’s not a pretty fucking picture that comes up. In fact, it’s fucking twisted.” He waves a disinterested hand at me. “It’s your life, mate. When she fucks up and the tabloids ferret out every last humiliating detail, don’t be surprised.”

  “Like I said, I don’t care. Kiera is fun and great in the sack, that’s all I need from her.”

  “Then I guess you’re all set.” He gives me on last sidelong glance and turns to walk away. “If you change your mind, we’ll all be at Gavin’s new place.”

  “Right, I’ll try to swing by.” I know I have no intention of going to Gavin’s house warming party tonight. I’m a masochistic bastard these days, so spending the night on the red carpet with Kiera shining and prattling on about herself and her stupid acting while I smile dutifully, is exactly what I deserve.

  Dax gathers up his belongings and leaves our record label’s largest conference room. We had an early morning meeting with the executives regarding our next album. I’m recording a solo album in New York instead of L.A. this autumn and winter, and it’s caused a bit of a ruckus.

  The guys are happy
for me, so the solo part isn’t the issue, It’s the location that’s the problem. I can’t stand Los Angeles anymore. It’s so fake and backstabbing and goddamn sunny every single day. It’s as if God took the most beautiful place on earth and dropped the most miserable, petty human beings on it.

  Gavin and Hawke argued against New York City and since they’re from L.A., I expected it, but there’s not enough time to write and record an entire album this summer, then I’ll be in New York starting in September. I even bought a house in the U.K. sight unseen just to feel like I had a home outside of the misery of L.A. where I’ve never bought a single thing. I always stay at the Chateau Marmont so I won’t have a single tie to this godforsaken city.

  I pushed hard for the change of venue and Dax agreed that it might do us all some good to try the east coast, so we compromised. We’ll write in New York, then come back to L.A. after the holidays to record. Dax knows that if I have to come back to L.A. too soon, I’ll end up on another six-month long piss up. My mood swings have been out of control lately, which is a pretty good sign that I’m already halfway down the road that ends with an empty bottle next to my bed and nameless, naked women everywhere. I’m lucky that he still gives a shit after all the crap I’ve done.

  I rub my tired, red eyes and head out of the building, putting on my ‘happy Adam’ face for everyone who wishes me well as I pass by even though my head feels like it might explode any second. At least I know that I’m still keeping up appearances, because I don’t get a single strange look from anyone, only big smiles and flirty eyes.

  As I step outside and am greeted by fans and tabloid reporters, I smile and sign autographs, laughing and stopping for pictures. I can fool them, but for how much longer can I fool myself?

  * * *

  Autumn in New York City is even better than I imagined. After living in California on and off for six years, the change of seasons and cooler weather is more than just welcome, it’s as necessary to me surviving as breathing.

  A sharp rap on the door lets me know that the dinner I ordered is here. I leave the gorgeous brick patio of my suite at the Bowery Hotel and let the smartly dressed employee bring in the room service.

  “Mr. Reynolds, where would you like it set up?”

  The young man’s voice is nervous, odd for an employee at such a posh hotel. I’d think he’d be used to celebrities by now.

  “The table, right there.” I point to the obvious, the small table in the lounge area of the suite. Then I have another idea. “No wait, can I have it on the patio?”

  The employee lifts an eyebrow at my request. “Sure thing, Mr. Reynolds.” He quickly distributes my order on top of the large outdoor dining table until it decked out as if dinner were being served in a five star restaurant.

  “Wow, that was impressive.” The kid blushes madly under my praise.

  “Are you okay,” I check his nametag, “Roger?”

  “I’m fine, yes sir. Sorry.” Roger pauses before continuing. “I’m not supposed to converse with you.”

  “Well, you’re here and I’m asking you to, so go on then,” I encourage. It’s not often I get to speak to people one on one, without hordes of other fans crushing and screaming to get close.

  “I’m, well, I’m a huge fan.” His face turns even redder than before. “I play guitar and I love your music.”

  “You play? For how long?” I ask, genuinely interested.

  “Ten years.”

  That’s a long time, he doesn’t look very old, which means he started young like Dax and me.

  “Tell you what,” I reach into my pocket for my wallet. “Take this,” I hand him a generous tip and a business card. “That’s my work email. Send me a few songs and if you’re good, I’ll see if I can’t get someone to take a listen. And don’t give that email out, I’d hate to have to change it again.”

  Roger takes the card, dumfounded, and stares at it. Then he smiles. “You’d really listen to my stuff?”

  His response makes me grin. “Sure. We all have to start somewhere, don’t we? Hey, you can do me a favor. Where can I get a good cup of coffee round here? Your hotel may be five star, but the coffee is complete rubbish.”

  Roger laughs and scribbles down the name of a café with the address on the back of my credit slip then thanks me profusely and leaves me to eat my dinner. I figure that’s my good deed for the month, to negate me being a giant useless arsehole the rest of the time. Maybe the kid’s really talented, who knows?

  * * *

  It’s a nice walk from the hotel to the little café that Roger recommended. The bonus is that it’s also near the studio where I’ll start recording my album. One of the many things I won’t miss about L.A. is having to be driven everywhere. It was fucking maddening. This morning, I have a meeting with the band about our next album. We’re going to work on writing while I record my solo, so the guys are in town for a while.

  I tug my brand new New York Giants hat down low over my eyes, put on fake glasses and pull the collar up on my lightweight coat. No sense getting mobbed at a coffee shop before my first day at work. The place is easy to find and busy, but not overcrowded. That’s good for me because it means that it’s easier to go unnoticed.

  I order a massive coffee with cream and sugar and it’s in my hand within seconds. This detour was much faster than I thought, leaving me twenty minutes until I have to start walking to the studio.

  Scanning the cozy shop for a spot to hide for a few minutes, I see a table being vacated by a couple of school-aged kids in the back corner. Perfect. I duck behind them and slump down in the seat, staying buried under my hat and coat while I pull out my phone to check my email. Great, one from Kiera. Sighing, I open it.

  To: Adam Reynolds

  From: Kiera Radcliff

  Adam honey, when are you back in L.A.? I need you to go with me to the opening of Freddy’s restaurant. It’s next Saturday at 5. You should see the scripts I’m getting now, it’s unbelievable!

  xoxo

  K

  Shaking my head, I can’t help but laugh. Kiera is so fucking self-centered. She didn’t even ask a single thing about me, or even how my flight went or if my hotel is nice. It’s only ever about what she needs me to do for her. I can’t be mad though, I knew this getting into it with her. After nine months of her selfishness, it doesn’t even faze me anymore.

  Kiera’s not stupid, that’s for sure. She has a way of manipulating everyone into giving her what she wants. Kiera has no idea that I know exactly what she’s doing, because I never say a word. I certainly don’t deserve to be treated any better, so I usually go along with whatever she demands. L.A. however, isn’t going to happen. There’s no way I’m going back there for her or anyone else.

  “Hello, do you mind if I sit here?”

  I jerk up so fast at the voice that my knee bashes the table, making a bit of my coffee slosh out onto my hand. “Christ! That’s hot!”

  Shit! Not drawing attention to myself isn’t achieved by screeching in a crowded cafe. I slouch back down into my coat and pull my hat down lower.

  “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” The same person who surprised me says, handing me a stack of napkins. I wipe my hand off and finally get a look at the woman who startled me and do a double take.

  Bloody hell, she’s gorgeous!

  “I’m Sydney. I’m so embarrassed that I made you spill your drink,” she says earnestly. “It’s just…” she glances around the full café nervously, then back at me, “I have some work to do and I usually sit here.”

  She’s so charming that I can’t help but smile. “It’s fine by me, if you still even want to sit with me now that you know that I scream like a girl.”

  Sydney laughs with me and lowers herself into the other chair. “You’re British,” she says, taking a sip of her own huge coffee.

  “Far as I know.” She hasn’t said anything about knowing who I am. Maybe she’s not into music. “I’m Adam.” I
extend my hand across the table to meet her properly She takes it, but hesitantly, her eyes dropping down to the table instead of looking at me as her small fingers clasp mine.

  Jesus, she’s unbelievably shy and for the life of me I can’t figure out why. She’s fucking stunning, all long red hair and pouty pink lips. Then she lifts her lashes and meets my expectant gaze.

  Fucking hell!

  I yank my hand back from the shock. Her eyes, they’re Ellie’s eyes. It’s unbelievable actually, how much Sydney’s eyes remind me of Ellie. They’re the same exact color, even the way the blue looks like hardened steel in the light, with a gaze that suggests they’re both used to keeping people at arm’s length.

  “Hi Adam. New in town?” she correctly guesses, lowering her hand to her lap.

  “Yeah, just got here yesterday. I’ll be around for a few months for work.” I sit back and wait for her to ask what I do for a living.

  “That’s nice.” Instead of asking more questions, she pulls a laptop out of her massive handbag and plops it on the table.

  That’s it? No twenty questions? No squealing and asking for tickets or trying to get in my pants? I’m literally shocked speechless.

  “Are you okay?” Sydney asks. I look up and see a tiny line between her furrowed brows.

  I close my gaping mouth and fix my expression to hide the disbelief. “Yeah, I’m great, brilliant really.” She has no earthly clue who I am and I love it.

  I start to think that if Ellie had a little sister, she would be just like Sydney. Kind, caring, and innocent outwardly but a bit jaded inside. It makes me want to curl my arms around her and protect her from all the fucking bastards out there, the Callum Murray’s of the world. I’m no savior though. I’m a fucked up asshole, no better than Murray when it comes right down to it.

  Sydney smiles and continues working on her laptop, perfectly happy to share a table with me and not drill me with questions. It’s been so long since I’ve had companionable silence, that the next time I look at my phone, I realize I’m going to be late to the studio.