Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series: Box Set 1

by Charli B. Rose

  Dawson sank down into the chair and pulled me onto his lap. Settling into his embrace felt like coming home. His arms wrapped around me, and he buried his face in the crook of my neck, sucking and kissing the skin there. When he hit a ticklish spot, I squirmed and kicked the guitar case propped up by the chair, making the lid pop open.

  “Crap, I’m sorry,” I gasped.

  “It’s all good. My guitar is already stashed on the stage,” he assured me, his lips never leaving my skin.

  I peered down at the floor. “What’s that?” I asked as I stared inside the lid.

  He blushed and shrugged. “I just wanted to keep the memory close for inspiration.”

  It was the sketch I’d made for him of us kissing so many years ago. He’d added in some butterflies flying in a mini tornado around his head and written beneath the drawing Makin’ me Dizzy. The paper reflected the overhead light.

  “Don’t worry. It’s not the original. I had a copy made and laminated it, so it wouldn’t get damaged. While I’m confessing, I may as well tell you the full story.” He shifted me over a bit and reached into his back pocket, drawing out his wallet. When he flipped it open, inside the photo holder was a miniature version of the sketch. “And one more.” He leaned forward and snagged his phone off the table. After he swiped the screen, he held it up. The image was the wallpaper on his phone.

  “How long have you been toting that image around with you?” I cradled his cheek with one hand, my palm tingling at the scruff along his jaw.

  “Honestly?” he asked sheepishly.

  I nodded.

  “It’s been in my wallet since you emailed it to me. Once we started playing real gigs, I put it in my case. And it’s been uploaded on several phones now, since I seem to break or misplace them all the time.”

  “Why? We weren’t even a couple back then.” My nose scrunched up as I wondered about it. With one finger, he rubbed the wrinkles away.

  “Not officially. But in my heart, we have been since the day I laid eyes on you in your backyard with your hair in pigtails, wearing that pink and yellow outfit. You have always been my inspiration and the one who believed in me.”

  I crashed my mouth to his, needing to marry our bodies desperately. My heart wanted to crawl out of my chest and join his.

  A loud throat clearing behind me brought us back to a world where people other than us existed. It wasn’t the world I wanted to be in at the moment. Dawson seemed to be of the same mindset, as his fingers anchored my head in place, so he could continue plundering the depths of my mouth. I cracked an eye open to see who dared to interrupt. Lila. I was so not cutting our moment short for the likes of her.

  “Dawson, you two need to separate before the meet-and-greet starts. Can’t have rumors starting that would bring your official single status into question,” she hissed at us.

  ♪ Puzzle Pieces by Framing Hanley

  Dawson sighed into my mouth before he put a breath of space between our lips. His eyes never left mine as he answered her. “I will refrain from kissing or groping my girlfriend during the twenty minutes of the scheduled meet-and-greet. I will set the alarm on my phone. When it goes off, I’m kissing and hugging my girl until time to walk on stage. And she will be standing just offstage, where I can look at her while I perform. I will scoop her up as soon as the last note is played, and I will carry her straight to my room on the bus. If you don’t want anyone getting accurate ideas about how crazy I am about this woman, then I suggest you keep people out of my damn way tonight. Because we have a lot of catching up to do. Do I make myself clear?” He finally glanced at her.

  “Crystal,” she replied curtly and spun on her heel to storm away.

  “She wants you,” I mumbled against his neck.

  “Nah. She’s just worried about what the label will say. They want us all single and available. At least for appearances’ sake.” His fingers ran up and down my spine in a soothing manner.

  “I hate that. I want the world to know you’re mine.” I tried not to pout about it. But he was going to be heading overseas soon to start their first world tour. I wanted him officially off the market before some foreign groupies even thought about sinking their claws into him.

  “I want that too, baby. I swear, you’re all I want. I’m sorry. I promise you don’t have to worry about anyone capitalizing on my apparent availability. I’d never jeopardize what we have. And I’m actually thinking of adopting a new standoffish persona. You know, arrogant, alphahole jerk who’s rude to everyone,” he offered with a half-smirk.

  “I trust you. I know if you ever decided you didn’t want this anymore, you’d talk to me first. And I’m not sure you’re capable of seeming standoffish.” I smirked at the thought of my extroverted boyfriend appearing the opposite.

  “To protect what we have, I can be anything,” he vowed. His lips pressed to mine once more before I extracted myself from his hold. With my hand tucked in his, he dragged me over to the table where fans would soon line up to have things signed. He snagged an extra chair and planted me in it next to him. Before the door opened to let in the chaos echoing in the hallway, his fingers brushed my cheek and toyed with the ends of my hair. “Did I mention, I love the hair?”

  I gave him a megawatt grin. My creativity often bled out into my hair. For this leg of the tour, I’d dyed it in pastel shades of lime, cornflower, amethyst and bubblegum.

  I watched him in his element, chatting with his fans, cataloging the swirl of colors as the line moved steadily by us. And the whole time he interacted with his fans, his left hand remained planted on my thigh beneath the table. Everything was going well until the last person in line approached. Some big-chested girl with hot pink, cotton candy hair asked him to sign her boobs. I tried not to bristle as Dawson hesitated. Lila shot him a look while Brooks sent me one.

  “Marker’s permanent,” Dawson warned.

  “I wouldn’t mind having you permanently mark me with your Sharpie or your stick,” she declared brazenly. “I mean, we do go way back.”

  Dawson seemed speechless.

  “How about we combo sign them, since you have so much real estate?” Brooks said from Dawson’s other side.

  Dawson squeezed my thigh three times, our silent signal of love, before he stood. Planting his left hand on the table, he leaned forward. He uncapped the black marker with his teeth and proceeded to scribble a large D, some loops and an A up by her collarbone. Pink-and-Busty opened her mouth to protest or flirt some more. But before she could utter a syllable, the alarm on Dawson’s phone chirped. He shot Lila a look and draped his left arm across the back of my chair.

  “All right. Time’s up. The guys have got to get ready to go on stage. Thanks for coming. Enjoy the show,” Lila rambled, ushering the lingering fans out the door.

  The moment the door closed behind them, Dawson made good on his promise to Lila. And he continued to fulfill every loving and dirty vow he’d made the rest of the night and every day after that as I toured with the guys…

  As my eyes focused back on my computer screen and the image that said so much more than I ever even realized, my fingers traced my lips, remembering the way he used to brand them with his.

  Would I ever stop missing it? Missing him?

  ♪ I’ll Still be Loving You by Restless Heart

  Chapter 22

  Dawson

  ♪ Try Again by Kip Moore

  The days were starting to run together. Every day was roughly the same. Wake up, surf—sometimes the strange girl was hiding in the dunes—work on the song—sometimes with the guys, sometimes alone—interview people for positions within our newly formed record label, hold my breath as I check the mail, fall asleep to some memory of Izzy and the life I used to have, contemplate how to win her back, wake up, rinse and repeat.

  Today, a colored envelope bearing a New York postmark appeared in the post office box we’d set up for our fan mail. I made myself wait until I got home before I ripped it open.

  It was from h
er. Same magazine-ravaged words. More photo puzzle pieces. Sucking in a deep breath, I went to the table and unfolded the note all the way.

  Dear Universe,

  Tell Dawson he’s mine.

  This is his sign.

  He’ll see in time.

  Love,

  Me

  After the guys had helped the other day, all the pieces of the photograph puzzle had been fastened to poster board with tape. It was incredibly difficult to assemble a puzzle without an image to guide us. But with their assistance, I could definitely see it was a photo from France. The pieces were arriving, allowing me to fill in the picture from the outside in. I could only guess as to what the focal point of it would be, me, because so far none of the pieces had people in them at all. My stomach turned, and I couldn’t bring myself to look at the new pieces of the puzzle.

  Was she really just some obsessed fan? Or was she deranged and dangerous?

  We hadn’t put security in place officially yet. We wanted Joe, and Joe had a few weeks left on his contract with our old label. He knew us. He was the best. I was willing to wait for him to be available to hire his team. So, I’d become extra vigilant—letting everyone know where I was, keeping the alarm set, shutting the blinds in the house, parking my car in the garage, looking over my shoulder, and not sharing anything on social media about my whereabouts. Some days it felt like overkill. But on a day like today, as I stared down at the myriad of colored magazine words glued to paper, it felt very necessary.

  The walls were closing in. The air was thickening around me, making it hard to draw in a good breath. I opened the patio door and stepped out onto my deck, drawing in a lungful of salty ocean air. My head instantly cleared. Leaning on the railing, I peered in the narrow space between the two houses that were oceanfront. I could just make out the crashing waves. Watching them roll in calmed me. With each receding wave, a bit of my anxiety washed away.

  I contemplated going inside to grab my guitar. I knew playing would ease my mind the rest of the way. Turning, I moved towards the door. Before I could twist the knob, the hairs on the back of my neck stood at attention, and a chill went down my spine. I stiffened as my ears strained for any sound other than the distant sea. Nothing out of the ordinary filtered in. I spun around slowly, cautiously looking around. Someone was out there watching me. I could feel it. Wasting no time, I went in the house and locked the door.

  I grabbed my cell phone and dialed up my best friend. “Want to come hang out?” I huffed out anxiously.

  “Sure, man. I’ll be there in fifteen.” Thankfully, Brooks knew me well enough to know something was bothering me without bombarding me with questions. I’d never thanked him for being my rock when everything in my life went to hell. I needed to remedy that tonight.

  In no time, Brooks was ringing my doorbell. “’Sup, man,” he said as he pulled me into a one-armed greeting. That small gesture brought me a measure of comfort I hadn’t even known I needed.

  When I didn’t answer, he shrugged and followed me to the kitchen. Wordlessly, I handed over the latest piece of stalker mail. A low whistle emitted from his lips when he finished reading. His eyes immediately went to the fractured photo.

  “No new pieces in the envelope?”

  “I haven’t pulled them out yet. After I read the note, I started getting dizzy and lightheaded, so I went on the porch for some air. And someone was out there, dude.” I stuffed my trembling hands into the loose pockets of my lounge pants. I didn’t want Brooks to notice how shaken I really was.

  “You saw someone?” His brow arched in disbelief.

  I knew it was implausible that someone could spy on me with the fence and hedges protecting the property. Plus, it was dusk, and with the fog rolling in from the ocean, visibility was poor. But damn it, I wasn’t losing my mind.

  Stalking to the fridge, I grabbed two bottles. “No, but I felt someone watching me.”

  After handing Brooks one of them, I twisted the top off mine. I guzzled half of the ice-cold liquid. Setting the bottle on the counter, I swiped my arm across my mouth, collecting the water droplets that clung to my lips. Man, I wished it was beer. That would help calm my nerves. But I didn’t keep alcohol in the house anymore.

  “You’re Dawson Anderson. Someone’s always watching you.” He took a swig of his water.

  “True. After all this time being in the spotlight and living under a microscope, I’ve learned to ignore those kinds of eyes on me. You know what I mean. This was different though. It gave me bad vibes or something. I can’t explain it.” I shook my head, trying to shake away the uneasiness that settled in my gut.

  I paced the floor and ran my fingers through my hair. “Anyway, I came inside and called you.”

  “Let’s see what pieces the sicko sent this time.”

  He settled at the table and shook the envelope, sending the pieces fluttering to the wooden surface. I didn’t touch them. I had this weird idea that by touching them, I was giving her some sort of psychic link to me. This girl was freaking me the eff out. As Brooks maneuvered the slips of paper around, I turned my back, unable to watch.

  “Looks like the pieces today are from different parts of the photo. We’ve got a bit of water, probably from the pool. Then there’s something that might be the edge of flowers or something pink. And a scrap of blue jeans. Not much useful. But she’s running out of leftover pieces, so soon you’ll have the whole picture,” he filled me in since I had yet to turn back around.

  Turning slowly, I looked down at the pieces that now floated in the empty space, just waiting for something to connect with. Foreboding filled me. I couldn’t put my finger on why exactly, but something about Brooks’ description didn’t sit right.

  Brooks looked up into my face, concern filling his expression. “I think you need to see if we can get Joe lining up a team before he’s officially ready to take over. Dude, there’s no way we can show up at Elle’s show in a few weeks for taping without our own security.”

  “Crap, you’re right. That had totally slipped my mind.”

  Yanking out my phone, I tapped out a quick message to Joe and asked him to get up with me tomorrow about moving forward with hiring a security team for him to lead.

  Sliding his chair back, Brooks stood. “Let’s work on the song. You look like you could use a distraction.”

  “I totally could.”

  We went downstairs to the soundproof room and let the music take us away. After we’d perfected “Dear Universe”, we started to work on some of the songs we’d written together over the years. Songs that had been pushed aside by our old label.

  In addition to the whole album we were planning to release next, there were countless songs we thought would never see the light of day. Anytime we played one of our creations for the label execs, they said the songs didn’t fit the image they’d invested all their time and money into creating for the band. The songs we wrote had too much feeling in the lyrics. The sound was very much us—gritty, raw and rocking—but the words weren’t. The melodies of our creations ranged from happy and catchy to desperate and torn. But our chart toppers, the songs that cemented our band into a niche forever, were songs purchased for us. They were superficial songs about living for the party, life in the fast lane, being out of control and adrenaline rushes. Nothing real or substantial. Now that we weren’t bound by their expectations of our sound, we could really explore who we were as artists.

  “I was thinking we should see about teaming up with that orchestra again sometime. That Christmas special was epic and sold like hotcakes,” Brooks said as he fiddled with the strings on his bass.

  “You mean Trans-Siberian?” I asked.

  “Yeah. It was so much fun playing with them. Adding all those instruments to our sound was surreal. Made the songs so much fuller.”

  I nodded as my mind flitted back to the other surreal things that happened in my life during that time…

  We’d been touring for what felt like forever. I tried to be grateful.
I was living my dream. But the dream had changed when Izzy and I decided to be more than friends. When we decided to be everything.

  For three years, we’d been navigating being an us while the band soared to fame. Chasing my dream carried me further and further from home and caused me and Izzy to have to spend more time apart than together. It was hard. Harder than I ever imagined. Never more difficult than at the moment though, with Christmas just a week away and me stuck in Paris with band obligations until New Year’s while Izzy was home in South Carolina.

  ♪ Christmas Without You by One Republic

  I was in a funk and had been since we arrived in the City of Love two days ago. As the elevator doors closed behind me, I was finally able to drop the cheerful façade I’d worn for our concert tonight. As much as the other guys and the staff begged, I just couldn’t find enough goodwill to tolerate the after-party. I had a date to FaceTime with my girl, and nothing was going to stand in my way. Joe stood in the corner with a smirk on his face as he escorted me up to my suite.

  “What?” I growled at him. I’d hit the level of miserable where I wanted everyone around me to join me in my wallowing.

  “Five minutes, dude. You’re going to hear her voice in five minutes. Calm down and find a smile in there somewhere for her. She doesn’t deserve your pissy attitude,” Joe scolded. He had a soft spot for Izzy, turned into a big teddy bear whenever she was around.

  Sheepishly, I cast my eyes to the floor. He was right. It wasn’t the band’s fault or Joe’s or Izzy’s that I was stuck halfway around the world, away from the only person who mattered to me. I had to suck it up. Seeing her face, even on a screen, would heal some of the hurt in my heart. And maybe after sharing a few digital orgasms, I’d be in a better mood. They certainly wouldn’t hurt.

  Joe took out his phone and tapped away for a few seconds, probably checking in with the rest of the security team. A glance at my own phone told me I had one minute to make it to my room before Izzy would be calling. The digital display of the elevator’s progress revealed I wasn’t going to make it. Damnit. I’d have to talk to her on my phone, rather than my computer. I really needed more than a tiny screen filled with her beautiful face.