“Thank you.” She took the newspaper and wondered if he remembered that she liked to read the business section with her morning coffee on the bus. It was hard to concentrate on what she was reading because of the overwhelming normalcy of it. She’d only met Grant yesterday, and this was the first breakfast the three of them shared, but they were all comfortable and settled as if they already carved out a routine.
“They spotted a shark in Newport,” Grant said, from behind the Orange County Register.
Kira’s gaze immediately shot to Brett. They both smiled as the surf lesson in Miami silently crossed their minds, then they returned to their respective reading material. “The NASDAQ’s up,” Kira stated, cheerfully.
Brett and Grant looked at each other, as if it were a crazy thing to say, and then they both lowered their heads and snickered.
She elbowed Brett playfully, then realized it was something Audra always did to Jimmy. Instead of laughing it off the way Jimmy did, though, Brett elbowed Kira back. They ended up in a little elbow wrestling match at the breakfast bar which resulted in them both laughing so hard tears were coming out of the corners of their eyes, and Grant was mocking them with the shake of his head.
They resumed reading in silence for several minutes, then Brett said, “There’s an article about Bulletproof’s show tonight at the Staples Center in the entertainment section.”
Kira looked over his shoulder. “Let me see.” It was really just a small blurb and a photo, but there were so many accolades that it had Kira pumped for tonight. “I’m really looking forward to seeing the show.”
Brett held Kira’s hand as he led her backstage. She’d been to the Staples Center more times than she could count with Immortal Angel, but the vibe was totally different tonight. The guys from Bulletproof were all about a good time. For a moment, their infamous pre-show and after-parties had Kira worried. But, apparently, the free sex, heavy drug use, and trashing the place were all things of the past. Now that the guys were all paired off in committed relationships, things must have settled down. There were still a million people in the main dressing room, which belonged to Brandon Bullet, but everyone had their clothes on, for the most part, and there were no drugs, except the sweet smell of pot floating around the room. There was plenty of alcohol and food, though, and lots of beautiful people, including several rock stars.
“Stay close to me,” Brett said, over the blaring hardcore music as they moved through the crowd.
Someone began hollering with excitement above the noise, making Kira jump. She turned toward the voice just in time to see Derek MacAlister, Bulletproof’s lead guitarist, hop onto a table. He started playing air guitar and rocking his long black hair back and forth while singing Asking Alexandria’s The Violence at the top of his lungs. He was wearing a black and gray kilt that made him look incredibly sexy, and a smile bloomed across Kira’s face. “Look at Derek.”
Brett threw his head back and laughed. “He’s sees a table and he’s gotta dance on it.”
“There she is! The girl Brett can’t stop talking about.” Brandon Bullet wrapped his arms around Kira and kissed her cheek loudly. “Let’s get you a drink.” Brandon raised his finger in the air and shouted for a bartender.
A bartender? Kira thought she didn’t hear correctly, but, seconds later, a server showed up with a tray filled with glasses of champagne. Another presented a tray of crab cakes. She declined the appetizers but took a flute of champagne. “Thank you.” She was beyond impressed at the luxuries that were provided for this room filled with people during pre-show festivities, but she really shouldn’t be surprised since Brandon was known for his extravagance.
“Did you meet my husband?” Brandon asked, stepping aside so a tall handsome man could join them. “He’s from New Yawk, too.” Brandon exaggerated the latter word to mimic an East Coast accent, which garnered a playful eyeroll from his husband.
“I’m Cameron Douglas, but please call me Cam.”
Brandon’s husband was well dressed in designer jeans, a Tom Ford button-down and Ferragamo dress shoes that shone with rich black leather. If Kira remembered correctly, he was a high-powered executive in the financial field. She immediately felt a connection and shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet a fellow New Yawker.” She tried to overemphasize it the way Brandon had, but it sounded no differently than the way she normally said the word. While Brandon chatted with Brett, she engaged in conversation with Cam.
“What do you think of the West Coast?” Cam asked. “Drastically different, huh?”
“Very. I, personally, think I’m very polite, but I’ve been called rude more times than I can count.”
“They’re just not used to East Coast honesty. People are more filtered here. I used to constantly remind myself to think before I blurted out something that might sound offensive. I guess it made me a nicer person. And everything moves at a slower pace here.” He sighed and his shoulders relaxed. “It was a welcomed change. I needed that. We take the time to enjoy life out here. Really enjoy it. I think the weather helps,” he explained. “It really puts a smile on my face to see that sun shining every day.” He guffawed. “I can’t believe I used to dredge through the ice and snow just to get to the subway. Then ride nose to nose with strangers who’ve never heard of toothpaste and mouthwash.”
She laughed. Then noted that he was drinking champagne, like her, instead of beer or a mixed drink like mostly everyone else in the room. She was about to mention that they shared the same palate, when Alan Delgado and Jeremy Kagan barged into their little group.
Bulletproof’s drummer and bassist roughed up Brett in a hug, which turned into some friendly wrestling that caused a small circle to open up around them. Brandon stepped away from them and rejoined his husband with an arm around Cam’s shoulder. With Brandon’s long wild hair and rock star persona and Cam’s clean-cut corporate look, the two looked like total opposites, and she imagined that their personalities reflected that. But they made an extremely attractive couple and fit together perfectly.
“Did my guy convince you to move out to California yet?” Brandon asked.
Kira opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Had Brett been telling his friends that he wants me to move to the West Coast?
“Not only do we have sunshine year-round,” Brandon continued. “We have some of the most beautiful beaches in America. Has Brett taken you surfing yet?”
Cam whipped his head in Brandon’s direction. “There was a shark sighted in Newport Beach the other day! Surfing is dangerous, Bran. Don’t encourage it.”
“Thank you!” Kira clinked her glass against Cam’s. “I tried to tell that to Brett in Miami. About the sharks. I guess these Cali boys have no fear of the water.”
“He wanted to take you surfing in Miami?” Cam shook his head from side to side. “No. No. No. Just no.”
Brandon chuckled and wrapped his arm tighter around Cam’s neck. He tried to pull him in for a kiss, but Cam backed up. They had a little standoff that was more erotic than aggressive, and Kira found herself watching with heated fascination as they tugged on each other’s shirts and shared a forceful kiss.
Brett returned to Kira’s side and took her hand. “Do you want to catch the opening band?”
She looked around the room at the crowd of people headbanging, dancing on tabletops, laughing, drinking, and having a good time. There were the obvious celebrities in the mix, but some were star-struck fans, evidenced by the VIP lanyards around their necks. She loved that they gaped at their idols with eyes filled with wonder and awe. It had been years since Kira had been at a backstage party of this caliber, and it was exactly where she wanted to be. “No. I think I want to stay here and enjoy the fun.”
“Fuck yeah!” Derek, who obviously finished his tabletop performance, slung his arm around Kira’s shoulder and gave her an over-friendly side hug that made some of her champagne spill onto the floor. “She’s one of us now, bruh!” he shouted. “And we ain’t giving her back!” He snappe
d his fingers in the air. “We need more food and drinks!” Three servers immediately surrounded them – two with alcohol and one with appetizers. Derek stuffed a bunch of bite-size meatballs into his mouth and took a bottle of beer. “Drink up,” he told her. “You guys got here late. You gotta catch up.”
She laughed at his over-exuberant personality, downed her champagne and took another glass from the server’s tray.
Ninety minutes and several glasses of champagne later, Kira and Brett stood at the side of the stage while Bulletproof blew the roof off the Staples Center. Maybe because Jimmy and Mason were drummers, or because the drum riser was directly in Kira’s sightline, but whatever the reason, she couldn’t take her eyes off of Alan Delgado. He was the only member of the band with short hair, which was probably a drummer thing, so that made him stand out right off the bat. But the way he pounded those double bass drums made her feel as if her ribcage was about to explode from the vibrations pounding inside of her chest, and she was riveted.
Jeremy suddenly jumped onto the drum riser facing Alan. He jutted his hips forward as he thumped out a deep and thunderous bassline. The moment the two made eye contact, an energy passed between them and they fed off each other’s talent. It was as if no one else was on stage and they were connected by the rhythm.
Bulletproof was loud, and the music was hardcore. Kira had so much energy coursing through her she couldn’t stand still and bounced on her heels. She raised her arm and pumped her fist in the air and accidentally knocked some guy’s cowboy hat off his head. “I’m sorry!” she yelled over the music, picking up the hat. She held it out to the man next to her and froze. “Oh my God. You’re Travis Fontana.”
“That’s me.” He took the hat from her, ran his hand over his spikey platinum blond hair and stuffed it on his head. “You must be Brett’s chick. Kira, right?”
He knew her name.
“Yep,” Brett answered, before she had a chance to reply. “This is Kira.” His eyes sparkled as they grazed over her. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
“She sure is.” Travis Fontana took her hand and kissed it. “Nice to meet you. Brett’s said so many nice things about you.”
Her heart fluttered at the way Brett had talked to everyone about her in the week that they’d been back from the tour. “Thank you. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the nation’s biggest country music star.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet the number one A&R executive in America.”
Her ego soared at the compliment.
“That’s my girl,” Brett slipped his arms around her waist and kissed her cheek.
His girl. It was silly that those two little words sent chills down her spine, but they did.
“And that’s my guy.” Travis pointed to Derek MacAlister, folded his arms across his chest and stared at Derek with a broad smile and stars in his eyes.
Derek was on his knees at the apron with his kilt fanned around him. He whipped his hair all over the place as he delivered a soul-rendering aggressive riff on the guitar.
Kira’s gaze shifted to Brandon. He lost his shirt somewhere between the backstage party and the show, and his bare chest glistened with heavy metal chains, nipple piercings, sweat, muscle and tattoos. Black eyeliner rimmed his dazzling blue eyes, and his hair was a wild lion’s mane. But it was his voice that outshined his stage presence. It was deep and husky. Guttural and harsh. Yet smooth as butter. It was a contradiction and made no sense. It was sort of like scratching an itch. The harder you dragged your nails across your skin, the better it felt.
Brandon suddenly threw his head back and let out his signature scream. It was throaty, sexy and raw, delivered from somewhere deep in his diaphragm, and it just about blew Kira’s mind. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed, pushing her fingers through her hair.
“That’s what I say every night,” Cam said, with a smile. He leaned closer to Kira and yelled over the roar of the crowd, “He’s amazing, isn’t he?”
“They’re all amazing,” she replied. “I don’t usually listen to music this hard. I have to tell you, my blood is pumping like crazy right now. It really incites the senses.”
“I never listened to anything like this before I met Brandon,” Cam admitted. “I thought it was just loud noise.” He clapped his hand over his mouth. “Don’t tell him I said that!”
Kira laughed. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“What secret?” Brett asked, leaning into the conversation.
She mimed locking her lips and throwing away the key, and the three of them all laughed.
“Are you having a good time?” Brett asked.
“I’m having a great time! This trip has been wonderful!” It had been the most fun she’d had in a long time, but she stopped to think about what the last two days entailed. They really didn’t do anything yesterday. Brett showed her his house and his garden, and they’d made dinner. They’d made love and spent the night alone watching TV in bed. Today, they spent the day at the beach, but just a few hours lounging in the sand. Relaxing was a better word to describe it than fun. She hadn’t thought about work in two days. Not for one single second. And she wasn’t thinking about it now, either. She was experiencing a revelation. California – Brett’s California, not the hustle of conducting business in L.A. which is the only California she previously knew – was relaxing. Other than Bulletproof’s concert, which had her ready to jump out of her skin, the past two days have been stress free and soothed her soul. And, God, had she needed it!
This time, when Kira woke and noticed Brett wasn’t next to her, she pretended to be asleep in hopes that she’d get the breakfast in bed that she missed yesterday morning. As she lay there trying to hold in a giddy laugh, she let her body sink into the memory foam mattress. It was heavenly, and she made a mental note to buy one when she got back to New York. Maybe it wasn’t the mattress at all that had her body feeling like Jello. Maybe it was the freedom of not worrying about anything for three days.
A deep sigh escaped her as she lay in bed with her arms and legs stretched to the sides without any inclination to move. She laid there, as if suspended in the air, enjoying this serene moment as the sun bathed her from the window. Noise from the hallway made her peek one eye open. Brett was heading toward the bedroom, but he only had two cups of coffee in his hands. No tray filled with breakfast. Not even a muffin.
“Wake up, sleeping beauty.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, and the scent of his incredible freshly ground organic coffee made her reach for the cup before she was fully sitting up.
“Mmm,” she hummed, with the mug to her lips. “I’m going to have to buy one of those fancy coffeemakers when I get back to New York. You’ve spoiled me this weekend.”
“I’m not done, yet.”
When he settled in next to her, she glanced toward the hallway that led to the kitchen and raised her brow. “So, what’s for breakfast? Another famous Brett Navarro omelet?”
“I thought we’d go out for breakfast. I found this really nice restaurant in Rancho Palos Verdes that’s on a mountain overlooking the Pacific Ocean. I hear they have a phenomenal Sunday brunch. And then I thought we could take a boat ride to Catalina. There’s plenty of dolphins and sealions. I thought you’d like that.”
If he was trying to impress her, he certainly succeeded. “It sounds magnificent.” She tilted her chin up and pressed her lips to his, the taste of his delicious coffee flavoring their kiss. A long sigh left her lungs, and she snuggled into the crook of his arm as if it were made for her. If her stomach didn’t rumble, reminding her that she was starving, she could have stayed there all day.
As far as she knew, there was only one bathroom at the start of the foyer that led to the bedrooms from the kitchen. She hurried through a shower and decided she’d dry her hair in Brett’s room, so she didn’t tie up the bathroom.
While she padded down the foyer in her pink bathrobe and fuzzy slippers, she rubbed at her wet hair with the towel. Brett and Grant’s voices were comin
g from a third bedroom at the end of the long foyer. The door was open, so she started toward it so she could let Brett know that the bathroom was free. When she reached the doorway, she saw them. Brett had a towel around his waist and his hair was wet. Obviously, he’d already showered. But neither he nor Grant were smiling. They were having a serious discussion, which looked more like a confrontation.
The revelation hit her like a bulldozer. It was the master bedroom – their parents’ bedroom. She wanted to run back to Brett’s room, but she was frozen in place as a memory of her own mother’s death haunted her. She was suddenly seven years old again and sitting on her parents’ bed. She had her mother’s pillow in her hands, and she was crying into it. She remembered that she had it pressed so tightly to her face that she could barely breathe, but it smelled of her mother’s perfume and she just wanted to inhale the scent. She had told her father to never wash the pillow or change the pillowcase so that she could always hold the pillow and feel as if her mother was right there next to her. He had left the pillow on a chair in the bedroom because he didn’t want the housekeepers to accidently mix them up and change the wrong pillowcase, and that’s where it stayed.
When she first bought her apartment, her father had shown up with a big box tied with a ribbon as a housewarming gift. It had contained the pillow. She had broken down in tears and hugged the pillow and her father. She had slept with it that first night, then placed it in one of the cubbies in her closet for safekeeping, and it’s still there to this day.
Brett’s voice broke through her trance, and she realized that he and his brother were standing in front of her, instead of across the room. They were staring at her with concern creasing their brows. “Are you all right?” Brett asked, again.
Embarrassed, she realized that her vision was blurred with tears, but at least they hadn’t rolled down her face yet. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s all right.” Brett rubbed his hand up and down her arm. “It’s just our parents’ bedroom. You can come in.”
The Roadie: Radical Rock Stars Book 7 Page 15