Rock Star Romance Ultimate Volume 2

by Mankin, Michelle

  “Is that the truth? Or is that what you’re telling yourself to give yourself a way out?”

  Ouch. “Shit. Are you always like this?”

  He laughed. “Yep. According to your boyfriend, I’m a real asshole.”

  The smile fell from my face. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

  “That so?”

  I looked out the window. I took a breath, then took a fortifying sip of my coffee. I focused on the blue ridge of the mountains in the distance, erupting above the downtown skyline. Even though I was smack-dab in a world of hurt, it felt good to be home. I loved Vancouver. I grew up here. Everyone I loved lived here.

  Even Jesse lived here, somewhere.

  I watched the city roll by and thought, I don’t even know where he lives.

  I glanced over at Brody, whose eyes were on the road.

  “You knew them before they were famous, right? How did they handle it? Was it so easy for them to adapt to fame?”

  “Easy?” he said. “Hell, no. We lost Seth at the end of the first tour.”

  Seth. I knew that was the name of Dirty’s original rhythm guitarist; he played on the first album, Love Struck—the one that rocketed Dirty to fame.

  “He couldn’t handle it?”

  “Well, it’s fair to say Seth was already headed off the rails before the band made it big.” He glanced over at me. “Drugs. But Zane almost went that way, too. In his case it was booze. He went to rehab though and stuck it out. Hasn’t drank a drop in six years, but I can’t say that’s been easy on him, living the life he lives.”

  “I had no idea.” My Google searches had centered so much on Jesse that I’d neglected to stalk the other band members for gossip. Definite oversight. Surely there must’ve been a lot of it over the years, and Brody was right—none of that could’ve been easy on them. Not if they were good people, like I knew Jesse was.

  “They’ve all had their struggles with fame,” Brody went on. “Maybe not as serious as all that, but… I can’t say it’s been easy on Jesse. Being on the road so much, away from family.”

  “Family. You mean his sister?”

  Brody got quiet. For a long, long moment I wondered if I’d said something out of line.

  “Jesse mentioned…” I said, but I didn’t know quite where to go with that. Brody looked at me again, but whatever he was thinking behind those deep blue eyes, he wasn’t sharing. “He mentioned he’s worried about her. And I got the feeling it’s been that way a while.”

  Finally, Brody said, “Jesse’s had a lot of loss in his life, Katie. Both of his parents gone when he was young, never got to see what he’d make of himself. That still hurts, I’m sure, but Jesse’s not one to talk about his pain. He writes music, gets it out that way. Which is maybe why writing with his sister is so important to him. It’s a bonding thing. A chance to get to know her better.”

  I stared at him. “Jesse writes music with his sister?”

  Brody glanced over at me. “She’s a fantastic lyricist. She co-wrote most of the songs on Sunday Morning.”

  Okay. Totally new information. “How long have they been writing together?”

  “Used to do it all the time when we were kids. But this is the first time she’s written with him since Love Struck.”

  My jaw dropped a little. “She wrote with Dirty?”

  “Fucking right. That album still outsells all of their other albums combined. It’s a fan favorite. Jesse’s favorite too.” Brody looked over at me. “Or it was, until this one. Jesse’s always said the songs she co-wrote are the best Dirty ever recorded. Got that same feeling on this new album.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “I guess there’s a lot you don’t know. Maybe you should stick around, find out some more.”

  I ignored that, because I wasn’t about to be swayed to stick around for anything, by anyone, other than Jesse himself, and he wasn’t here telling me these things. “Why didn’t she keep writing with Dirty?”

  Brody shrugged. “Wanted to go off and do her own thing, not tour the world on her brother’s fame. Wanted something of her own.”

  Something of her own.

  Shit.

  That was the same thing I told Jesse I wanted when I left him in L.A..

  I’d promised to call him when I landed to let him know I got home safe, but I didn’t. I’d been avoiding him, ignoring his calls. And I could picture perfectly the look on his face during all those phone calls with his sister, that look I now knew to be deep worry.

  Was I making him feel that way now?

  God. To think I’d kicked him right where it hurt… It was kind of unforgivable. I didn’t even think I could blame him if he couldn’t forgive me for it.

  “I know it wasn’t cool of me to leave him like I did,” I said quietly.

  “He cares about you, Katie,” was all Brody said in return.

  “He wanted me to help him sell music. That’s all,” I said, feeling kind of desperate to still believe it, because then maybe I wasn’t such a total ass. “I did that. As much as I felt I could.”

  Brody looked at me like I was dead crazy. “That’s all you think this was?”

  I didn’t know. I just didn’t know anymore.

  But if Jesse wanted anything more from me than that, why hadn’t he told me so?

  So far, he hadn’t even told me he wanted me to be his girlfriend for real. Or stick around two seconds longer than the end of the tour.

  “Then why did he hire me in the first place, Brody? He said he needed me because ‘together, we sell.’ He said he needed help staying in the minds of the fans, that this album had to be a success or the record company wouldn’t let him do another solo album.”

  “That’s true, but Jesse doesn’t need more money or more fame, Katie. He just wants to keep bringing Jessa’s lyrics to the world. That’s what this album was about.”

  Shit. I didn’t fucking know.

  I mean, it’s not like he told me.

  I had no idea all of this was for his sister. To try to help her?

  “So he wants this album to be a success… so he can make more music with her?”

  “He’s hoping it will convince her to come home and write with him again full-time.” Brody glanced over at me. “He’s afraid if we can’t get her back for the music, we’ll never get her back.”

  I noticed this time he said we.

  “Do you think she’ll come back?”

  “No,” he said, and my heart kind of fell at his bluntness, at the thought that Jesse wasn’t going to get what he’d hoped for. “It’s not like we don’t all hope… but the girl’s been gone a long time. She changed when Dirty left on their first tour. Jesse’s always blamed himself for that.”

  “But couldn’t you guys just pay for her to come home? Maybe she could take a break from modeling or something?”

  “Jessa Mayes doesn’t need money from big brother,” Brody said. “And she wouldn’t take it anyway. She doesn’t even accept royalties for the songs. It all just goes into a trust account.”

  “Why?”

  “She says she wants to make her own way. Incredibly stubborn on that point.” He gave me a meaningful look.

  “I get it,” I said. “But I’m not Jesse’s sister. I’m not family. I’m not even his girlfriend.”

  “Maybe that’s how it started five weeks ago,” he said, “but things can change, Katie.”

  Yeah. Things could really fucking change.

  We were getting closer to the very familiar mega-mansion where I knew I’d find Josh. Even though I hadn’t been there in over two years, I knew there was no way he would ever miss Sunday brunch at his parents’ house. And I’d been so sure, when I got into Brody’s truck, that I had to talk to him. To face him once and for all, to tell him I was over him and that he needed to let me go. No more showing up uninvited in my life. No giving photos of us to the media. No more us.

  I’d thought it would be the bravest thing I could do to face him, but I was wrong.


  It would be truly brave to take a chance on loving someone again—and give him a chance to love me back.

  “Um… can we turn around? There’s somewhere I need to go.”

  Brody looked at me, curiosity piqued. “Yeah?”

  I took a deep breath and nodded.

  Finally, I knew what Jesse wanted. And if there was anything I could do to help him get it, I had to do it.

  Because that’s what love was, right?

  “Yeah,” I said. “Do you think you can take me to the airport?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  * * *

  Katie

  I was pretty excited.

  For the first time in over a week, maybe weeks, I felt like I was doing the right thing. I was taking control of my life. I was honoring Katie and what Katie needed. Thanks to Brody, I now knew what Jesse wanted, though I still had no idea what he wanted with me. That just didn’t matter anymore. Because it was time for me to grab my life by the balls.

  I was going to show Jesse Mayes how much I loved him.

  And if he got what he set out to get when he first asked me to come on tour, and he still wanted me by his side, I would know he loved me back.

  I just had to get Jessa to come home.

  I didn’t know how I was going to do it, but since Jesse was a guy, and Brody said he didn’t like to talk about his pain, I figured I could safely assume that he’d probably never actually told his sister how worried he was about her. And Jessa and I seemed to have rapport. I mean, we table danced for fuck’s sake. Some good old-fashioned girl talk could probably go a long way.

  My gusto lasted all the way to L.A. and most of the way through my perfectly enjoyable dinner with Jesse’s sister. The dinner I was about to ruin, though that part was kind of inevitable.

  Somewhere in the middle of dessert, it sputtered to an awkward death over the raspberry sorbet, during my clumsy explanation about why I was here. When I eventually ran out of words, Jessa Mayes just stared at me.

  And stared some more.

  “You mean, you flew here today? Just to see me?”

  She sat across from me, tall and poised, her broad shoulders at an angle, one eyebrow cocked in a disbelieving look. She was just as beautiful as I remembered, but that thing I’d noticed the last time we met was more pronounced today; that flatness in her eyes, that lack of a spark.

  I tried again, awkwardly, to explain what Jesse had told me. All except the suicide part.

  It had all seemed so earnest when he’d said it, and so clear when I’d gone over it in my head. But coming out of my mouth, it just sounded wrong.

  “I just thought maybe I could help. You know, to explain…”

  “And you flew here? Today?” Jessa seemed stuck on that one detail more than any other.

  And I just kept trying to steer her back to the point. “Well, he’s worried about you. I don’t know if he’s come right out and told you that, or if he ever would. But he is worried. And I think he has reasons for that. If that’s not overstepping for me to say so.”

  Jessa set down her spoon, like she’d lost what was left of her appetite. “I didn’t know he felt that way.”

  “He does.”

  “I’m sorry for that.” She waved down the waiter. “I think we’re done here,” she told him, and I got a sick, desperate feeling in my gut.

  The waiter cleared away our dishes, but I held fast to my wine glass. I took a swig, then took a leap.

  “Why do you feel dirty?”

  Jessa was touching up her plum-red lipstick in a gold compact. She paused and gazed at me across the candles. “Pardon me?”

  It was hard to imagine the woman seated across from me feeling that way; the way the lyrics sounded. But…

  “‘Dirty Like Me.’ You wrote it, right?”

  Jessa looked surprised. She sat back in her chair, closing her compact with a snap and stuffing the makeup back in her purse. She held my gaze, but I could feel the wall going up. I was losing her, fast.

  “I did,” she said. “The lyrics, anyway. Jesse and Seth wrote the music.”

  “So why do you feel dirty? That’s what the song’s about, right?”

  Jessa glanced around the room, then returned her gaze to me. “Is that what it’s about?” she said. I really couldn’t get a lock on her. Was she upset? Indifferent?

  “I think so. That… and, I think, feeling beautiful. And powerful. And scared. And small. To tell you the truth, I just thought it was a raunchy rock song. But the first time I really listened to the words, it fucking gutted me.”

  She looked like she could almost smile at that, but she didn’t. “Most people just think it’s sexy.”

  “Sure. If by sexy you mean devastating, annihilating, soul-fucking-obliterating…”

  The waiter came with the bill, and Jessa took it before I could react. “It’s on me. I’ll have to get going once they run my card. I’ve got a shoot early tomorrow.”

  “Jessa—”

  “I’m sorry, Katie. I really am. I appreciate that you flew all the way here to talk to me, and that you did it out of love for my brother.”

  “I—”

  “I can see what this means to you. And now, thanks to your kind words, I can see what it means to him. And I’ll talk to him, I promise. He needs to know it means a lot to me, what he’s trying to do. But it won’t change anything.”

  When we stood outside, moments later, I tried again.

  “Jessa—”

  “It’s alright, Katie. There’s nothing more anyone can say to change the fact. Not you. Not my brother. I love him. I love you for trying.” With that, she took me gently by the shoulders, leaned in and pressed a kiss to my cheek that left me cold. Then she held me out at arm’s length and said, “I’m not coming back.”

  It was possibly the most depressing conversation I’d ever had. I just couldn’t figure out why.

  As much as I’d wanted to bring her home, I realized that I’d also wanted to help. But I was so set on this being the way I got to Jesse that I had no idea if I’d helped or harmed. I had a sinking feeling in my gut, and for a moment, standing there on the curb watching Jessa walk away, I had a small taste of what Jesse must be feeling.

  He was right. There was something desperately wrong with his sister.

  I could see it. No, I could feel it.

  I just had no idea what it was.

  The valet pulled up with the car and Flynn got my door; Brody had insisted I have security in L.A.. “Any more stops, Katie?” he asked, once we were settled.

  Right about now, I felt utterly defeated.

  So what the hell was one more blow?

  “That depends,” I said. “Can you get me to Elle?”

  * * *

  Apparently, he could.

  He encouraged me to call ahead, and when I told him I didn’t have her number, he suggested I get it from Jesse. When I made it clear that wasn’t going to happen, he drove me to a tree-lined street in the Hollywood Hills where soaring gates stood at the end of every drive and I saw not a single person.

  Flynn parked on the street and got out, walked up to the end of the nearest drive, to the security box, and pressed the ringer. I saw him speaking, but couldn’t hear what was said. He then strolled back to the car and opened my door for me. “Go on in.”

  I stepped out of the car just as the gate opened. I scooted up the drive, hearing the gate shut behind me, wondering if Elle was watching me on a security cam somewhere. I glanced back to see Flynn lounging against the car, ankles crossed, lighting a cigarette and watching me go.

  No doubt he’d be on his phone the second I was out of eyesight, reporting to Jude or Jesse or both.

  The house appeared through the trees, this beautiful Spanish-looking stucco thing with rounded corners and a huge double door of dark wood. A luxury SUV with tinted windows and a Ramones bumper sticker was parked in the drive. Before I could knock, the front door cracked, then swung open about two feet and stopped.

  Elle
stood there in the opening, staring at me.

  First thing I noticed: she was shorter than she seemed at the club. She was probably wearing heels then. Now she was barefoot and just an inch or two taller than me.

  She wore white skinny jeans with a floral pattern embroidered up the sides, and a small cream-colored crochet halter over her tan torso, a gold string bikini top beneath. Her long white-blonde hair was pulled back from her face in several chunky braids, the braids and her loose hair all side-swept into a messy ponytail that hung over one shoulder. Without a trace of makeup she was beautiful, her clear steel eyes regarding me. And she wore glasses. Small rectangular frames, thin and a gunmetal color that went with her eyes.

  I was glad I’d worn my sexiest jeans and a flattering ruffled strapless top; I’d dressed for dinner with a supermodel, which, as it turned out, was also the way to dress to face one’s fake boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend.

  Elle tipped her head to the side, throwing a glance at the empty drive behind me, then fixed her gaze on me again. “Where’s Jesse?”

  “On the road,” I said. Then I took a breath and said what I’d come to say. “It wasn’t real.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Our relationship. You were right. It wasn’t real. But… then I think maybe it was. Kind of.” I hesitated. “Now… I don’t know. I don’t know what it is.”

  Elle crossed her tanned arms. “I see.”

  I had no idea what I was reading in those steel-gray eyes. “I just thought you should know the truth. And that’s the truth of it.”

  Elle stared at me. “I know Jesse, hon,” she said. “I’ve seen him with a lot of women. Saw him waking up next to me. Saw him with you, too. If what you had was real, I’d know it. If it wasn’t real, I’d know it. Either way, you don’t need to come to my house to tell me.”

  “I just thought you should hear it from someone, face-to-face, instead of the way you did,” I told her. “I’ve seen the things they’ve been saying in the media, and you should know that it’s not true. You weren’t replaced overnight. There was no overlap, and you deserve to know that. I never meant for you to be publicly embarrassed over the whole thing.”