Rock On: A Bully Romance (The Rockstars of Hollywood Hill)

by E. M. Moore

  Marco, who’s propping his head up in an open palm with a bored looking expression, places his finger on a button, cutting them off. “Take it from the top.”

  I narrow my gaze at him. He seems like he doesn’t want to be here, and yes, the guys don’t have much, but what they were just singing sounded really good. I move forward, placing the tray on the coffee table. The noise of the tray hitting the wood captures Nolan’s attention. He turns, his fingers tightening around his biceps while his arms are still crossed over his chest. He moves forward, voice pitching low. “I need to talk to you.”

  My stomach bottoms out. Shit. He did say that when he came in, didn’t he? “Yes?” I ask, straightening. I’m trying not to look intimidated, but at the same time, I haven’t been giving Nolan the updates he wanted, so I’m a little freaked out he’ll call me on it. I’ve answered him every time he’s asked me, and I don’t think the guys have tried to get me fired again, but there’s just something in Nolan’s look that makes me uneasy.

  “You should’ve told me the band threw that party,” he says.

  I clamp down on my jaw. I look over his shoulder at the booth. Ian’s the only one not eyeing us right now. He’s too caught up in the song to give me a second thought, but Sean looks vaguely curious. Finnick’s gaze is narrowed like he might come out of the booth just to see what’s going on, and Archer looks openly hostile. “I apologize,” I say.

  His lips thin even more. Here, in this room, he doesn’t look like the big shot he was in his high-rise building with the glass windows. Actually, here, he looks out of place. “I don’t need an apology. I need you to do the job I hired you to do. That includes giving me regular updates. I had to learn about the party from our marketing team. The guys are under strict rules to be out of the public eye right now.”

  “I wasn’t aware of that,” I tell him, trying to sound at least a little sorry for not giving him a heads up even though I’m not. If he wants to babysit the guys, he can have at it. Maybe I’m just being stupid because half of the band doesn’t even like me, but I don’t think being up their ass and showing up unannounced is helping them make their album.

  “Again,” Marco says in the background. I swear my hackles raise at his disinterested tenor. It’s like I’m a mama bear or something.

  “Yeah, sure,” Ian says. He glances over at Nolan and I talking, his eyes widening in surprise, and then he turns to Marco. “I told you guys we weren’t ready yet. We don’t even have the full lyrics.”

  “It’s coming together,” Marco says, waving his hand, telling them to keep moving. His posture is saying anything but though. It makes me so mad for the guys that I’m having a hard time not sticking up for them myself.

  “Even so,” Mr. Nolan says, recapturing my attention after the band starts back up again. “I should’ve been made aware, and I trust that won’t happen again. If you don’t keep me updated, Aisley, you won’t have a position at Big City anymore. Do you understand?”

  I try not to let the shock that ripples through my body show. I didn’t think he’d go that far. Hell. Part of me wants to tell him he can take this job, which has nothing to do with songwriting, and shove it. But in the next second, I talk myself down. It’s not just about me anymore.

  “Guys, guys,” Marco says, raising his voice, cutting Ian off mid-lyric again. “We needed this song like yesterday.”

  Ian’s hands clench around the mic in front of him. All I see are white knuckles. Sensing something is about to go down, Nolan moves away from me and joins Marco by the booth. Ian’s jaw ticks. “We have another one,” he says, splaying his arms out like he doesn’t know what Marco wants him to do.

  Marco shakes his head and sighs.

  I stand, thinking I should probably get out of here before I tell both Marco and Nolan to fuck off. When I move, Ian glares at me again, and now all the rest of the guys are looking at me, too. They must want me to get out of here. I’m not even them and I’m embarrassed and pissed for them.

  “Take a break,” Marco says into the mic. Then, he turns and starts going through papers next to him. I only spare him a glance, but when I see a flash of something familiar, I freeze.

  Holy shit. My notebook. How the hell did that get up here?

  He picks it up, flips through the pages, then does a double take. I look at him with my heart thumping the entire time. The guys spill out of the room, and I jump up. “I’ll take that,” I say. “It’s mine.”

  He ignores me. His lower lip is sucked into his teeth as he still stares at the words written there.

  “Um, Marco?” I ask tentatively, feeling a chill sweep through me. “Can I have that? It’s—”

  His gaze lifts to mine finally. “Feisty tongue with a retro smile.”

  “That’s nothing,” I tell him. My stomach clenches. I want to get the hell out of there. How the hell did my notebook make it up here? I turn toward Finnick. He must see the worry in my eyes because he looks from me to Marco.

  I move forward and try to just take the book from his hand, but he holds his palm up to stop me. His lips move as he reads my words. I shift from foot to foot. I didn’t write that song with the thought anyone would ever read it. Marco turns. “Guys, I got the lyrics.”

  Ian’s head snaps up. “What?”

  “Right here.” He waves my notebook around like he’s got a golden ticket. When they all just stare at him, he waves at them to move closer. Nolan’s already at his shoulder, reading the words from behind him.

  “It’s nothing,” I say automatically.

  Finnick’s eyes go wide. He finally realizes what Marco has in front of him. “That’s Aisley’s. I was just looking at it.”

  No one listens to me or him. Nolan just reads the entire song again, his head bobbing up and down. “I like it.”

  “What the hell is that?” Ian asks. His ice blue eyes make me shiver as he takes the notebook from Marco and stares down at it. He meets my eyes over the paper when he’s finished, his eyebrow arched.

  “I can just take that,” I say, reaching for it.

  Again, no one listens to me as Ian reads the words I wrote on a whim. But when he looks up, I want to crawl into a hole.

  If looks could kill…

  18

  With the weight of all their gazes on me, I make up an excuse to get the hell out of there. I’m only halfway through the kitchen when I hear the thuds of multiple footsteps following me. I cringe inwardly but turn anyway. I might as well get this over with now.

  Finnick is first. His perfect pouty lip is troubled. “I’m sorry, Aisley. I took your notebook because I wanted to see what else you’d written. I—”

  “What else she’s written?” Ian asks. He throws the notebook at me, and it hits my chest. I grab it before it falls to the floor.

  “What the fuck?” Finnick asks, spinning toward his cousin. “Don’t take this out on Aisley.”

  Ian doesn’t back down though. Not that I expected that from the lead singer of The Rowdy Rogues. Ever since I got here, it’s been apparent that the guys look up to him. He just has that authoritative way about him. “You’ve heard something else from her?”

  “I walked in on her playing a song,” Finnick says, teeth clenched. His voice is low, growly. I’ve never heard that sound out of him before because he’s usually trying to break up fights, not actively participate in one.

  I drop my hands to the side, my right fist squeezing my notebook.

  “What the fuck, Finn?” Ian growls. He does it much better than his cousin. The hair on the back of my neck even stands. “Now they want to use her lyrics,” he says, pointing back up the stairs, but trying to keep his voice low at the same time.

  My heart does a somersault. Shit. Really? They want to use my lyrics? My mouth drops, and something like a smile spreads over my face, but it falters too soon. Archer marches up to me. “We’re not using your lyrics. We write our own shit.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “I warned you,” he says, dropping hi
s voice.

  “Alright, alright,” Sean says, finally speaking up. He’s frazzled. The neck of his shirt looks even more stretchy and his red hair is a mess on the crown of his head, sticking up everywhere.

  Finnick sees how close Archer is to me, so he leaves Ian standing there and comes closer. “She didn’t do it. I’m the one who brought her notebook up there.”

  Archer looks between the two of us, taking in Finnick’s protective stance in front of me. “What’s going on here, anyway?” he asks, eyebrow arched

  “Good question,” Ian says. He leans against the kitchen counter, wrapping his arms around himself. “I thought you two were just messing around, but…” He doesn’t even finish his sentence, just stares at us like we have to explain ourselves.

  I look away. The spotlight is on me, and I really don’t like it.

  “I like her,” Finnick says. “Who fucking cares?”

  “I do,” Archer spits. He gives Finnick a look I don’t understand, and his friend immediately softens.

  “I know, I know.”

  I glance at the two of them. I have no idea what this is about, but everyone else seems to. They gather around Archer in a way I’ve never seen. Sean puts his hand on his friend’s back, a calming gesture.

  “This can’t happen again,” Archer says, throat working.

  Sean’s gaze tracks toward me. He gives me a slight nod, so I take it as a cue to get the hell out of there. With my notebook still in my hand, I head toward my new bedroom. I place it in the back of the closet where I hope no one will go snooping for it and then text Heather. Despite the guys being all pissed off about it, a producer liked my lyrics. I can barely keep myself contained as I text Heather what happened. I’m all but jumping up and down in my room and then I keep staring at the phone like I can will her to text me back right away, but she doesn’t.

  I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m the only one who gets excited by music stuff. That’s not fair though. Heather’s currently thousands of miles away. I can’t fault her for that.

  Five minutes later, the doorbell rings again. I still immediately, but then remember I ordered pizza for dinner, so I walk to the door to get it, but I already hear footsteps making their way past me. I pull the front door open anyway, but Sean immediately intercepts. “I’ll get it. Don’t worry.” He gives the delivery driver a tip and then turns, closing the door behind him. “We won’t need you for the rest of the day, I guess. We just have to deal with the label’s bullshit. Hopefully they won’t be staying long.”

  I bite my lip. I expected Sean to give me shit about the song, too, but I guess he’s not going to. “Are they spending the night?”

  Sean laughs. His hazel eyes almost glitter in amusement. “Yeah right. No, they’ll put themselves up in a nice hotel nearby. That is if they’re even staying.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  Sean gives me a tight smile and starts around me. “I’ll put two pieces on a plate for you upstairs.”

  My cheeks warm, sending a whole flush through my body. “Thanks.”

  He nods in return and then heads up the stairs with their three pizzas. I close the door and then sit down on the bed with a sigh. I really didn’t need another reason for Ian and Archer to dislike me, but this is so not my fault. They should be able to see that.

  I give it a few minutes then head up the stairs with my beach bag. I grab the two slices of pizza Sean left for me on a paper plate and take them outside. The sand is still hot, but the more my feet sink in, I find the cool, damp sand underneath. After laying my towel out, I sit and enjoy the pizza as I watch the sun go down. Pink wispy clouds highlight the sky. The moon is high tonight, so even when the sunlight fades, there’s still an ample amount of light highlighting the sky, making me stay out longer than I usually do. I guess I’m also not too keen to go back inside either. I don’t know what will be waiting for me. A pissed off Nolan? Ian and Archer’s accusatory eyes?

  But I know I can’t stay out here forever either. Just when I decide to head back inside, footsteps approach. I look over my shoulder and find Sean angling across the sand toward me. He takes a seat next to me right in the sand. He’s clothed fully in jeans with holes at the knees and various rips and tears in the thighs and in the lower leg. “I thought I’d find you out here.”

  I don’t know what to say, so I just look over at him, hoping I can tell with just one look how things have been going in there. Neither Nolan nor Marco seemed all that impressed with what they had, but I know that asking might get Sean’s defenses up too.

  It turns out I don’t have to because he brings it up first. “They left, by the way,” he says, digging his heels into the sand. “They went back to the big city.”

  Relief passes over me. Despite some things, the guys and I had a routine going. All that went to shit when they came, furthering the divide between the band and me. “I got in trouble,” I say to Sean.

  His red brows pull together. “Archer?”

  I shake my head, then pull my hair around my ears. “Him, too, I guess, but I’m talking about Nolan. He told me there wouldn’t be a place at Big City for me if I didn’t … Well, let’s just say he was mad you guys threw the party here and I didn’t tell him.”

  Sean shakes his head. “Asshole.” He breathes a sigh and then looks up at the star-dotted night. “It makes you mad because you want something your whole life, and then you get it and sometimes…sometimes,” he says, making sure I understand that part. “Sometimes…it’s not what you think it is.”

  He seems so down that I instinctively draw closer to him. There’s suddenly less sand between us as I turn to face him, my knee falling to the ground as I prop myself up on one hand. “That’s really sad, Sean.” It breaks my heart to hear him say that. It must suck getting your dream only to realize that it wasn’t what you thought it would be.

  He scoffs. “Yeah, tell me about it.” After a moment, he says, “But it’s true. We can’t even tell who our friends are. I’m not even talking about…” His voice drifts away, and I know he’s referring to his ex-girlfriend. “I’m talking about other people too. Nolan should be on our side. Marco, too. You,” he says, staring up at me. “We didn’t know what to think of you. Why the label had hired you. What you even wanted with being here.”

  Wow. I suddenly understand their hatred from the beginning on a whole other level. The more I learn about them, the more I get why they are the way they are. “It’s like you can’t trust anyone.”

  Sean runs a hand through his head of thick, red hair. The tip of his tattoo is peeking out again. In the moonlight, there’s a bit of an ethereal glow to Sean. My stomach tightens. Now, especially now, I see Sean’s other persona. Sure, he can be the drummer in a rock band and an asshole, but there’s been nights where the real him has shown through. The night he trashed the living room was the main one. He opened up and talked about his ex and all the terrible things she did to him just to get ahead.

  I imagine that’s what Archer and Ian think I’m doing. “I didn’t give those guys my notebook,” I say, just in case he thinks Finnick is just sticking up for me.

  Sean shifts to look at me. “I know. Finnick told us.” He breathes out. “I wish I could’ve read it, actually. Your song.” I shake my head, but despite me trying to hold back any reaction, I know I fail when Sean smiles. “I like you, Aisley. There’s something about you that just makes me feel like I’m back in Hollywood Hill.”

  I cock my head. “Hollywood Hill?”

  “Where we grew up.” He lies back in the sand, tucking his hands behind his head. “Those were the days,” he says, with a sigh that I’d normally expect from an elderly person. “Just out there, you know. Doing what we loved.”

  “What do you love?” I ask.

  “Music,” he says.

  “Well, aren’t you still doing that?”

  He doesn’t answer me right away. His forehead wrinkles in thought. “Yes, and no. There’s a lot more pressure and there’s also a lot more peop
le who have their hands into everything. No one can agree on what way the album needs to go. Or the trajectory of our careers. Or the fact that we can’t take breaks even though the guys have been through some shit that needs to be fucking taken care of.”

  His voice halts in anger, his face matching his words, but then he smooths it out once more as he keeps his eyes up, staring at the blinking stars.

  “You know what I think?” As soon as I say it, I figure he probably doesn’t give a fuck, so I just say it anyway. “I say screw Big City. Just get together and write the damn album you guys want to make. Be proud of something. Not to be Debbie Downer, but you guys are behind. You told them you’d have the album done by a specific time and regardless of whether they should’ve given you more time to finish it—I vote yes, by the way—you still owe it to them, so just do it. The way you want to.”

  By the time I finish talking, Sean’s staring at me. I think maybe I’ve rubbed him the wrong way, and he’s about to tell me to get fucked and go back into the house, but he doesn’t. “This is what I mean,” he says. “This is what I mean when I said you reminded me of Hollywood Hill. You don’t give a fuck who we even are, do you?”

  “I—” My mouth opens to say one thing, but then I stop it. “I think I did,” I tell him honestly. “At first. I heard your album on the plane ride here, but then when I got here, you guys were a bunch of dicks, so the excitement wore off pretty quickly.”

  He laughs to himself. “We were pretty awful, weren’t we?”

  “Some of you still are,” I mutter.

  “I hope you don’t mean me.”

  I give him a look, teasing, and he does his part by looking truly offended.