Turn up the Tempo (Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series Book 4)

by Charli B. Rose

  When she’d floated back to me, she sat up, and her greedy hands reached for the button on my jeans. Scrambling, I pulled my wallet and cell phone from my back pockets and set them on the counter. Britt’s slender fingers dove beneath denim and cotton to grip me. My cock eagerly throbbed against her touch. I needed to be inside of her. Now.

  Before I could shove my pants to the floor, my phone vibrated on the counter with a new text. The screen lit up with a preview.

  Elle: Call me.

  Britt quirked a brow up at me when I made no move to grab my phone.

  “It’s not important.” I wrapped my fingers around her neck and dragged her face back to mine. I needed to get lost in her kiss again. Leave all my worries somewhere else for a while.

  My phone vibrated again. I sighed and pulled back. The screen lit up with another preview.

  Elle: I need yo…

  I pressed my forehead against Brittany’s in frustration. Then Britt’s phone vibrated with an incoming text. I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at the preview of her message. It wasn’t from someone in her contact list, but I recognized the number.

  424-985-9453: Hey gorg…

  424-985-9453: Dinner?

  424-985-9453: Please?

  424-985-9453: I’m begg...

  Sighing, Britt lifted her head, breaking our contact, and grabbed her phone. “I guess the universe is conspiring to keep me from getting a taste of you.”

  She unlocked the screen and frowned as she read through the messages. “What is up with all these random people texting me? Is my number secretly written on some bathroom stall here in California? For a good time, call Brittany.”

  I growled at the thought. I didn’t want anyone else having a good time with Brittany. And that was definitely a reason why I should deal with my message and see what she wanted.

  Britt’s phone buzzed in her hand once more. “Speaking of randoms, how’d you get my number?”

  I stepped away from Britt’s warmth and refastened my pants. Bending over, I snatched my discarded shirt from the floor and slipped it over my head. “Dawson gave it to me before they left so I could check on you,” I explained as I shoved my phone and wallet back into my pockets.

  “Izzy was worried about me being out here, not knowing anybody,” she said softly.

  “Well … now you’ve got my number. Call me if you need anything. I’ll let you get back to your choreography. I’ve got some stuff I need to take care of. I’ll talk to you later.” I strode toward the back door.

  She made no move to stop me from leaving. I escaped into the fresh air and within minutes, was driving away with all kinds of terrible thoughts running through my mind.

  Chapter 7

  Britt

  ♪ Sometimes She Cries by Warrant

  Stunned, I watched him walk out the door. What the hell just happened? Tears swam in my eyes over his abrupt departure. My tongue swiped over my lips, gathering the lingering bite of cinnamon he’d left on my kiss-swollen mouth. I sat there on the counter in only my unbuttoned shirt and disheveled bra. Why did he go?

  And why did I care so much?

  No longer in the mood to work on choreography, I hopped off the counter and scooped up my clothes. Before my emotions could get the better of me, I hightailed it up the stairs and into the bathroom.

  I jerked open the shower door and slapped at the lever to start the cascading water. When steam started to billow in the room, I shed the rest of my clothes and climbed in. Standing beneath the spray, I let go of the grip I had on my emotions. Emotions I didn’t understand, but ones which escaped down my cheeks in the form of tears.

  Not that long ago, I was floating on a cloud of bliss, ready for more of the same. And now I was hiding beneath the falling water, bereft for reasons I couldn’t explain. I’d never felt such an emotional swing before.

  Why was I hurting? It wasn’t like Brooks and I were anything at all, other than a repeated good time. His leaving shouldn’t have the power to wound me. No guy had ever hurt me before.

  Once my eyes had stopped leaking, I dried off and went to hunt for my clothes, which were not where I dropped them on the bathroom floor.

  “Lyric, you little scamp, where did you drag my clothes to?” I sing-songed. My shirt was at the foot of the bed. My bra was in the corner. Shorts in the hallway. Panties … nowhere to be found. I really had to remember to put my clothes where the pup couldn’t get them.

  I dressed in my earlier outfit with new underwear. Then I went back downstairs. I needed to move, to dance. Maybe it would help me find some sort of clarity about what was going on in my head.

  I picked my phone up from where I’d left it on the counter. Ignoring the unanswered text messages on my screen, I swiped to my playlist. Not wanting to concentrate on creating something new at the moment, I scrolled to one of my favorite songs.

  As the sound of the horns rang out and bass thumped in the air, I breathed out, letting go of the chaos and conflicting emotions rioting inside of me. Dance had always been the one thing in my life that needed no explanation. It just was.

  Thank goodness, because today I needed it.

  ♪ Mambo No. 5 by Lou Bega

  After dancing through several of my favorite routines, I’d worked on some ideas for the song I should’ve been working on all along. But I felt good about what I’d come up with. I couldn’t wait to show Dub and his team.

  I untied the knot in my shirt and used the tails to mop my face. In the silence, my phone vibrated, reminding me I had an unopened text.

  With a swipe of my finger, the message appeared on the screen.

  424-985-9453: I’m begging. We can go wherever you want.

  Me: Who is this?

  424-985-9453: Wilder. Iz gave me your number.

  Me: I see.

  424-985-9453: Save my number.

  Me: I’ll think about it.

  I tapped the necessary commands to save his contact info.

  Wilder: So, will you go to dinner with me?

  Wilder: I don’t want you to have to eat alone.

  It was so sweet of him to ask, but after my morning, I wouldn’t be good company. And I didn’t want to complicate my already muddled feelings.

  Me: I’m exhausted. Raincheck?

  Wilder: Sure. But I’m holding you to that.

  Me: I expect no less.

  Sighing, I dropped my phone back onto the counter. Then I ran my fingers across the cool surface, remembering how it felt against my fevered skin earlier. Before I could get too lost in the memory of what was and the wish of what could’ve been, my phone trilled with an incoming video call from Izzy.

  Forcing a smile to my face, I answered, “Hey Izzy! What are you doing calling me? You’re supposed to be enjoying your honeymoon.”

  “Hey. I had a few minutes. Dawson’s taking care of some things before we fly out. He said it was a surprise. So, I thought I’d check in with my bestie. How are you?”

  “I’m good.” I walked through the kitchen and into the living room where I collapsed onto the couch.

  “Did you rearrange the furniture?” Izzy asked with a frown.

  “Oh, yeah. I scooted the couch back, so I’d have room to dance. I made sure it didn’t scratch the floor. Promise. I just needed more space so I could work on a routine to show to a choreographer I met at your wedding reception. He said he might have a quick job for me.”

  “I don’t care that you moved the couch. But that thing is heavy as crap.” She shook her head.

  “Oh, I know it.” I laughed.

  “I meant to mention it to you before we left, but it totally slipped my mind. The person who owned the house before Dawson bought it years ago was a dancer. She used the pool house as a dance studio. We haven’t had time to do any remodeling in there yet. The studio is still functional if you want to use it. It might need airing out, and it might be dusty. But you’d have more room.”

  My heart raced at the possibility of dancing in a private studio. A real
studio. “That would be awesome.”

  “The key is hanging on a hook in the kitchen by the back door.”

  “Speaking of kitchen, where would I find disinfectant wipes to clean your counters with?”

  Izzy looked at me curiously.

  “I spilled something. I wanted something a little stronger than hand soap and water to clean up with.”

  “Try the top shelf in the cabinet in the laundry room. So, when do you meet with the choreographer?” she asked excitedly.

  “Tomorrow. I’m so excited but nervous too. He saw me and Wilder dancing at the reception and said I might be perfect for a music video he needs to find a dancer for in a hurry.”

  “Britt, that’s great. I’m sure you’ll knock his socks off.”

  “Keep your fingers crossed tomorrow.” I held up my crossed fingers.

  She repeated my motion. “I will. And please let me know how it goes. So, how’s my sweet little pup?”

  I gave Izzy the stink eye. “You didn’t warn me she was a thief.”

  Izzy snickered. “Yeah. Sorry about that. She loves to run off with any clothes she can get her teeth on, especially underwear. But only mine. She never takes Dawson’s. She will bring them back eventually though.”

  I pouted. “I think I’m going to give her a handful of yours then and hope she’ll leave mine alone.”

  “You know there’s a simpler solution. It’s one it didn’t take me long to learn.”

  “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

  “Don’t leave your dirty clothes on the floor.”

  “Hardy-har-har. I’ll try to remember. How did court go?”

  Izzy rolled her eyes. “When Dawson and I walked into the courtroom to give our statements, Casey took one look at our wedding bands and went ballistic. She jumped across the table, trying to get to me. She was shouting obscenities and threats. Her lawyer was stunned. The ADA withdrew the plea deal they’d tentatively agreed upon. The judge wouldn’t even entertain it. So now it’s going to trial.”

  “When?”

  Izzy shrugged. “Probably a few weeks. But her outburst was on the record and will be able to be used as evidence. So there’s that at least.”

  “And your doctor appointment?” I asked cautiously.

  “That went much better. I’m still healthy. Everything appears to be well under control.” Izzy sighed in relief.

  “Now maybe you can start breathing easier,” I said quietly.

  “Yeah. I hope so. I’m ready to really start looking to the future. It’s never looked brighter.” She smiled widely.

  “I’m so happy for you, Iz. You and Dawson deserve every good thing.”

  Izzy beamed at something off screen. “I think the plane is ready for us. I hate to cut this short, but—”

  “But you’ve got a honeymoon to start actually enjoying. I hope Dawson keeps you so occupied that you don’t have time to check in anymore until you’re on your way home.” I winked at her.

  Dawson’s face popped into the video frame. “Oh, I plan to. And I’m guessing you won’t be into naked video chats, so Izzy won’t be able to come to the phone for weeks,” he said before he planted a scorching kiss on her mouth.

  “Get a room,” I shouted at them.

  “We plan to,” Dawson said with a laugh as he scooped up his bride.

  “I’ll talk to you later, Britt. And text me so I’ll know how your audition goes,” Izzy shouted before the call disconnected.

  Chapter 8

  Brooks

  The sun had set over the crashing waves some time ago. I’d been out here on this little stretch of hidden beach all day. Ever since I’d left Britt confused and wanting this morning. Once I saw Wilder’s number on her phone, I couldn’t stay. So much rage and confusion swirled in my gut, I was surprised I hadn’t puked all over Dawson’s kitchen floor. I couldn’t go home when I left. I might’ve had to watch Wilder as he made plans with Britt.

  Instead, I came to my secret spot and played music. And I wallowed. My growling stomach and aching fingers demanded I stop. With trudging steps, I made my way back to my vehicle and turned in the direction of The Hole in the Wall.

  The slow crawl of traffic fit my mood perfectly.

  My phone rang. My sister. Two calls from her in one day was definitely not good. Since I was stuck in traffic, I decided to punish myself further and answer.

  “Hey, Sis. I was going to check in with you later. I talked to Mom. She felt so foolish about the peanut butter—”

  “I know she feels bad now. But, Brooks, we can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep doing this. Her forgetfulness is so bad. She actually just grounded me. Brooks, I’m grown. I have my own apartment. And my mother just grounded me when I walked into the house to check on her because she thinks I’m still in high school and I missed curfew,” she hissed.

  I couldn’t hold back my chuckle.

  “It’s not funny,” she growled.

  I sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. She must be having a bad day. When I was there a couple of weeks ago, she had one bad spell. And the other day when she called, she thought something was wrong because Dad wasn’t home yet.”

  “Brooks, you haven’t been home in over a month, not a couple of weeks. She’s going downhill fast. Which you should’ve realized when she told you Dad was late. They’ve been divorced for over a decade. We can’t waste any more time. You can’t keep hoping it will get better while leaving me to deal with her. She sent me to my room and is camped out in her chair by the door to make sure I don’t sneak out. She’s going to hurt herself one of these days … I have to go to work in the morning. And I had to cancel a date tonight because she won’t let me leave.” Gone was my somewhat rational sister from this morning, and in her place was a frustrated, scared one.

  “What if while we’re looking for a doctor to give us a second opinion, I hire an aide to help out? I’d bring her here for a while to give you a break. But could you imagine if she got confused here? Out of her normal environment and routine? She might get lost.” I shuddered just thinking about it.

  “No, she definitely can’t come there. What about one of the nurses from the rest home that Mom volunteers at? Maybe one of them would be willing to spend time with Mom as a part-time thing,” Bri suggested.

  “That’s perfect. Do you have names and numbers?” I asked, hopeful.

  “No. But I’ll get them.”

  “Send them to me when you do, and I’ll make some calls.” I could do that much at least.

  “Thanks, Brooks.”

  “Hey, if you can get into my room without her seeing you, ease the window open and use the big tree limb next to it so you can sneak out,” I offered.

  “I’m not even going to ask how many times you’ve used that escape route. But thanks for the suggestion. I’ll check on her first, say goodnight, then sneak out. Just like a freaking teenager,” she grumbled.

  I shook my head, laughing as we exchanged goodbyes.

  Nearly an hour later, I parked in front of the little bar and grill the guys and I had always loved. This place was a safe bet for me to hide out from Wilder and Britt. There was no way he’d bring her here on a date. Not a first date.

  When I got inside, I was surprised to find it not that busy. Having recognized me, the waitress who greeted me ushered me to a booth in the corner out of the flow of foot traffic.

  “You want your usual?” she asked as I slid across the worn, vinyl seat.

  “Yes. And do you have chili tonight?” I asked, longing for something comforting.

  “Sure do.” She smacked her gum as she tapped her pen against her notepad.

  “Great. I’ll take a bowl of that with cheese.”

  “Coming right up.” She scooped up the menu I hadn’t bothered to open and sashayed away.

  My beer came a few minutes later. The first sip was immediately refreshing, washing away some of the heaviness of my day. When my steaming bowl of chili arrived, the aroma instantly transported me back home. Mom
used to make chili every Thursday during the winter. And winter in Ohio lasted a long time, so it was a good thing I loved chili. I spooned some into my mouth. The hearty mixture warmed some of the cold spots inside of me.

  I watched people come and go as I sat in the darkened corner. There wasn’t a band on stage tonight, so the jukebox filled the air with a medley of tunes. Couples laughed and danced on the small dance floor on the other side of the room.

  On another night, I might be in the middle of the fun. But tonight, I preferred to stay on the fringes of the action.

  When I turned my attention back to the remnants in my bowl, somebody slid into my booth seat with me.

  Startled, I looked over.

  “Hey, Brooks,” the busty blonde purred in my ear as she wrapped her arm around my bicep.

  “Hey there, Giselle. What brings you in here tonight?” I asked, my eyes darting to her cameraman standing inconspicuously off to the side, the red light blinking on the tiny recorder.

  “Honestly, I was feeling kind of nostalgic. I didn’t expect to run into you … but I’m so glad I did.” She pressed her cleavage against my arm as she flashed her bleached smile at me.

  When I’d first moved to LA, Giselle and I had hooked up regularly. She was hot and had no expectations. Neither of us was looking for long term. We were both focused on our careers. Now, she was a huge reality TV star and I was a rocker. She was the last woman I had any sort of routine involvement with—if I could even call it that. Being on the road for so long wasn’t conducive to relationships. So, when we got our first tour scheduled, Giselle and I parted ways, officially ending our non-relationship.