I jerked my hand away like I had been scalded. Thankfully, she slept like the dead, and my horndog assault hadn’t woken her up. Gently, I climbed over her body and escaped the roost. Glancing back, I gazed down at her sleeping form. A tug pulled at my heart. I’d never had a girl comfort me before—well, at least not since I’d hit it big. Girls just wanted a piece of the fame or to be able to say they’d screwed me. With our crazy schedule, it was too much of a hassle to have a girlfriend. At least that’s what I told myself.
Pushing the long strands of blonde hair out of her face, I rubbed Abby’s cheek tenderly, but she still didn’t stir. Instead, she made those cute little snores that would have mortified her if she had been awake. She truly was an angel right out of Heaven to care enough to dry my tears and comfort me, not to mention sleeping with me when she knew she shouldn’t.
Fuck. Why did she have to be so beautiful? It would be so much easier if she was some average or even butt-ugly girl. No, my savior—my angel—had to be any man’s fantasy. With a frustrated grunt, I escaped into the bathroom. Even though I was tempted, I would not stoop to jerking off this morning. It wasn’t entirely that I had all this integrity—hell, I’d let a waitress blow me the night before in a diner storeroom. It was more about the fact that I knew to get off I’d have to fantasize about Abby.
So instead, I took a cold shower and watched my wood shrivel under the stream. Just as I was about to turn the water off, a riff hit me like a train barreling through my mind. It took me so off guard that I had to lean against the stall for support. Pinching my eyes shut, I hummed aloud what was filling my mind.
Hustling out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around my waist before leaving the bathroom. Normally, I would have gone stark naked to the bedroom for my clothes, but I didn’t dare want to run into Abby like that. Once I was dressed, I grabbed my guitar, a notepad, some sheet music, and a pencil and headed to the kitchen. After flipping on the coffee maker, I flopped down at the table.
After scribbling down the riff I’d heard, I worked on the melody. Once it was done, I started hammering out lyrics to go along with it. All of the emotions I’d been experiencing converged on this moment. I only paused in my furious scribbling when my hand cramped from the excessive writing.
I eased my guitar onto my lap and started playing the music I’d written. I erased and changed a few chords before beginning again. Closing my eyes, I focused on the lyrics in my mind as I played.
At the sound of someone behind me, my eyelids popped open.
“Morning,” Abby murmured softly.
I glanced back at her and smiled. “Morning. Did I wake you?”
“Yeah, but it’s fine.”
“Sorry. The muse decided I didn’t need any more sleep,” I lied. I knew I would freak her out if I told her the truth. Jerking my head over my shoulder, I replied, “There’s some coffee if you want some. Of course, you probably need OJ instead.” I winked at her. “Don’t want you passing out on me again.”
Pink tinged her cheeks at my attentiveness. “Thanks. But I’m good for now.”
I nodded. “We’ll probably stop for some breakfast in an hour or so.”
“Okay.” She motioned towards the notepad with scribbled lyrics and chords. “How’s it coming?”
I grimaced. “Good, but it’s never going to work.”
“Why not?” she asked as she eased into the bench seat across from me.
“The label wants very specific stuff from us, and this,” I waved the notepad at her, “isn’t it.”
Drawing her knees up to her chest, she rested her chin on the tops of her legs. “You won’t know until you approach them.”
“Trust me, it’s not happening.”
She cocked her brows at me “Oh, come on Mr. Glass Half Empty. What’s it about?”
With hesitating, I replied, “My mother dying.”
Her face fell. “Oh Jake, I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“I know. And thanks.” When I started to rip out the lyrics from the pad, she reached over and grabbed my hand.
“No, don’t.”
I clenched my jaw with determination. “It won’t work, Angel. I have to sing about love, relationships, and sex. You know, bullshit like that. A song about my fucking heart being ripped to shreds because my mother is dying isn’t going to make an album, least of all a single.”
“What about Eric Clapton’s Tears in Heaven.”
I gave her a withering look. “That’s Clapton. He could tell any label to screw themselves if they didn’t like his songs.”
“Fine. Give me a minute here.” She drummed her fingers on the table for a few seconds. “Okay what about Alter Bridge’s In Loving Memory?”
My brows rose in surprise. “You actually listen to Alter Bridge?”
She rolled her eyes. “Contrary to what you think I haven’t been in a hole my entire life or jamming to the Jonas Brothers.”
I couldn’t fight my lips from momentarily turning upwards. “Yeah, well, Alter Bridge’s management isn’t necessarily marketing them the same way ours is.”
“You’re honestly going to sit there and give up so easily on something you obviously feel very passionately about?” She shifted her legs to where her elbows leaned forward on the table. “That doesn’t sound like the kick-ass and take-names Jake Slater I know.”
I scowled at her for a minute before blowing out a frustrated breath. “Okay Miss Fix-It, how do I make it work?”
Tilting her head, she chewed on her bottom lip, lost in thought. “What if you were to choose something symbolic to represent your mother’s…” I knew she couldn’t bring herself to vocalize the words.
“You can be a big girl and say it. Her death.” Abby started to open her mouth, but I silenced her with my hand. “Yeah, you’re sorry. I know. Now continue on about the symbol shit.”
“Like back in the day during the 60’s, people sang songs with symbols in them because of the FCC codes. You know, like the Byrd’s Mr. Tambourine Man was talking about a drug dealer, and I’m sure you know about Puff the Magic Dragon.”
I shot her an exasperated look. “And you just naturally expect me to know about the songs with the drug references?”
She grinned. “I didn’t mean any offense.”
I laughed. “I’ll have you know that I haven’t done drugs since high school, Angel.”
“That’s good to know.”
I made a circular motion beside my temple. “It messes with my creative side, so I like to just say no.”
“Hmm, what about the alcohol?” she challenged.
Damn, she had me there. I couldn’t help the sheepish expression from filling my face. “Yeah, well, we all have our vices I guess.” I then motioned to the notepad. “Okay, you think I should write about my mom’s death with symbols—make the emotions sound like something besides death.”
“Right.”
We sat in silence for a few seconds. When I snapped my fingers, Abby jumped. “What if I made death a person—like a dude I was fighting with for my mom?”
“But make her a girl—the only woman in the world you’ve ever loved.”
“Exactly.”
She bobbed her head enthusiastically. “You will totally make the audience believe that. Look at I Will Always Love You for example.”
My brow creased in confusion. “Whitney Houston?”
“No, Dolly Parton wrote it, but Whitney made it huge.”
I grinned. “Angel, you seem to have a bit of a Dolly Parton fetish that’s quite disturbing.”
Abby laughed. “Actually, it’s my mom with the Dolly fetish. She’s originally from Sevierville, Tennessee, where Dolly’s from. So I grew up with all her albums, and my mom read her book back in the day. In it, Dolly explains that while the song sounds like letting go of a love relationship, it’s actually about her severing ties with her business and singing partner, Porter Wagoner.”
“What a little fount of knowledge you are,” I teased.
“Trust me, when you grow up in places with sporadic electricity or none at all, you learn to amuse yourself. For my brothers and me, it was learning to play instruments and song writing. For my mom, it was books.”
Sweeping the pencil from behind my ear, I momentarily nibbled on the eraser. “Hmm, so even if death is the fucker stealing my girl, I still think most of the lyrics I’ve got will work. They just need some tweaking. And I definitely think the melody will work.” I adjusted the guitar on my lap. “What do you think of this?” I asked before strumming a few chords.
Closing her eyes, Abby let the music wash over her. “Wow, that’s good. It has a real haunting quality to it.”
“You think?”
When she opened her eyes, I peered intently at her. Normally, I didn’t want or need any convincing about my creations except from the suits at the label. But this time, I desperately wanted reassurance from Abby. “Yes, I do. Even setting aside what I know about the song’s meaning, I want to cry just hearing the music, and you haven’t even added the lyrics yet.”
“Thank you. Give me a few minutes, okay?”
“Sure.” While she went to pour the glass of orange juice I had suggested, I reworked the lyrics. When I was satisfied I had the emotions right where I wanted them, I put my pencil down. I don’t know how long I had been focusing on the song. It must have been a while because Abby’s glass of juice was empty. She sat patiently in front of me.
“Ready?”
She nodded.
Focusing on Abby, I sang the lyrics with everything I had in me. Tears sparkled in her blue eyes before running down her cheeks. “Oh Jake,” she murmured.
“You think that’s it?”
Her hand clutched the place above her heart. “It’s breathtaking.” We sat there staring at each other for a minute before Abby finally wiped her moist eyes. Then a tiny shudder went through her, and she gasped.
“Are you okay?”
Without answering me, Abby rose out of her chair. “Where are you going?” I asked.
“To get my guitar. It’s probably nothing, but I just had an idea.”
I grabbed her arm. “No, no, I’ll get it.”
“But—”
I held up my hand to silence her. “Angel, Rhys is notorious for sleeping in the buff, and I don’t think your virgin eyes are quite ready for that.”
Crimson splotches dotted her cheeks, and she didn’t argue with me. I then hurried down the bus aisle. On his stomach, Rhys snored like a bear while his bare ass stuck out from the covers. Just as I suspected, he would have given her quite an eye-full.
Before Abby got out her guitar, she tore a sheet of paper from my notepad. I couldn’t help asking, “Are you thinking you can do it better?”
She shook her head furiously. “No, no, I was thinking of a way to enhance it.” At what I could only imagine was my intensely skeptical expression, she added, “It needs both sides of the story—his and hers.”
“A duet?”
“Yes. Now be quiet for a minute.”
I chuckled as Abby began scribbling down words. “Angel, have you ever even written a song before?”
“Nuh-uh,” she muttered lost in concentration. After a few minutes, she finally glanced up at me and gave a sheepish grin. “I’ve watched the boys do it forever, but I never tried. But for some reason, today it’s like… it’s just coming to me.”
“Like you couldn’t stop it if you tried?”
Her eyes widened. “Yes, just like that.”
I smiled. “I think the muse has found its way to you.”
“Hmm, I dunno,” she murmured.
Motioning towards the paper, I urged, “Come on, let’s hear it.”
Her brow creased as she nibbled her lip. “You won’t laugh, right?”
“Of course not.”
“Promise.”
I crossed my finger over my chest. “Scout’s Honor.”
“Okay.” Bending over, she took her guitar out of the case and adjusted it on her lap. She then mirrored the melody I had written earlier with almost absolute perfection.
Baby, it breaks my heart to have to leave you here—shattered and alone.
With no one to pick up the pieces or ease the ache that you own.
There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you or for your love
Each and every moment I had with you was an amazing gift from above.
I’ll wrap the memories around me like a blanket as this winter crushes my soul.
And although I can’t stay, I’ll keep you with me each and every day.
When she finished singing, she kept strumming the melody. I could tell she was having a hard time making herself look at me. Finally, she dared a little peek.
“That is fucking amazing!”
“Seriously?”
“Hell yeah. We have to record this together.”
Her fingers slipped on the chords, making a screeching noise on the guitar. “You’re joking, right?”
“No, I’m completely and totally serious. This has chart topper written all over it.”
With her blue eyes widening in fear, Abby shook her head furiously back and forth. “But I’ve never been in a recording booth. This is an important song, so you need someone with more experience who can do it justice.”
I leaned forward to take her hand in mine. “I wouldn’t have even written the damn thing if it hadn’t been for you. As for a better singer, I can’t imagine finding one.” Giving her a reassuring smile, I added, “Besides, I don’t want to do the song unless I can do it with you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, so quit arguing with me about it.”
She grinned. “Okay, but only if you insist.”
“Why don’t we try meshing both parts together now?”
“That sounds good.”
As Abby and I ran through the song a few times, the other guys started coming to life. Brayden waved at us before hopping in the shower while Rhys appeared clothed and with his blonde hair perfectly styled.
Without a word to us, he eased down at the table and listened intently. Closing his eyes a few times, I could tell he was imagining how to play his part. “That’s kickass, bro,” he said when we finished.
I glanced up from my guitar to wink at Abby. She rewarded me with a beaming smile that caused the cutest dimple in her cheek to appear. “You think so?” I asked.
“Oh yeah. Chicks are going to cream the hell out of themselves at the whole angsty thing you got going on about fighting for the woman you love.”
“I thought so too. Think the other guys will dig it?”
Rhys bobbed his head. “Bray’s gonna want it as acoustic as possible to bring out all the emotions. You know what a sap he is.”
I laughed. “I agree—about both the acoustic and Brayden being a pussy.”
Before Abby could give me shit about the word she hated most, AJ staggered out of his roost and down the aisle towards us. “What are you douchebags doing up so early?” he asked. His hand, like on autopilot, went to his crotch to do an obligatory ball scratch and then his eyes widened when he realized Abby was at the table too. “My bad,” he muttered under his breath.
Although she ducked her head, I caught the grin that fluttered on her lips at AJ’s actions.
“It’s almost nine. We’re stopping for breakfast in a few minutes,” I replied.
AJ groaned and rubbed his face. “Nine? Jesus, it might as well be the asscrack of dawn.”
Abby laughed. “Let me guess. Not a morning person?”
“Hell no.” His gaze then fell on the notepad and our guitars. “Whoa, hold the phone. Don’t tell me you guys were songwriting?”
“Yeah, we just wrote a duet. Isn’t that amazing?” Abby gushed.
AJ’s dark brows shot into his hairline before his eyes locked on mine. Even though I felt like an absolute pussy, I squirmed under the intensity of his stare. Mainly because I knew my secret was about to be out of the bag, and it was going to change things even m
ore with Abby.
With a smirk, AJ crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Oh yeah, it’s more than just amazing. It’s fucking incredible considering this dude never, ever lets anyone in on his writing sessions. I mean, even he and Bray don’t collaborate together—each of them just writes his own part and then they merge it together.”
Abby stared at me in utter disbelief. “But I…I didn’t know. You should’ve told me you wanted privacy or that—”
“No, it’s fine,” I muttered, glancing out the picture window as we pulled off the interstate.
“You say that now, but just wait until Bray hears about this,” AJ said. He thumped me on the back. “Of course, I can’t say I blame you. Who wouldn’t want to make music with Angel?”
AJ’s words had the same effect as pulling a dark, heavy cloak across my raw and open emotions. Whatever openness and honesty Abby had coaxed out of me automatically shut down. My mother’s advice echoed in my ear about giving Abby a chance and how fate could’ve brought us together. Her words coupled with what had happened last night and this morning made my throat close up, and I fought to breathe. Without another word, I whirled out of my seat and stomped down the aisle to the bedroom. I flung open the door to find Brayden getting dressed. “Where’s the fire, man?” he asked.
“Nowhere. We just need to hurry the fuck up and eat so we can get back on the road.”
Bray gave me a funny look before leaving me in the bedroom. Once I slid on my jeans and threw on a clean shirt, I didn’t go back out into the living room until I was sure we were about to be parked.
When the bus finally shuddered to a stop, I couldn’t get off of it fast enough. I didn’t say anything to Abby or the guys. I couldn’t take being with Abby one more minute. Her very presence had sent tiny fissures through my carefully constructed wall of emotions. She was getting to me too fast and too soon. No woman but my mother had ever seen through to the real me, and I wasn’t about to let Abby in.
So I hauled ass down the bus steps and started powerwalking across the parking lot.
Rock Star Romance Ultimate Volume 2 Page 9