by Selena Kitt
Tyler was the only one who would talk to me, aside from Rob and Celeste. The roadies were polite, but they kept their distance and seemed to stick together. They didn’t hang out with the band and Rob said it was, in part, because Tyler got into too much trouble when he hung out with them.
The crowd was so loud it was deafening. I accepted the earplugs Celeste handed over. She was passing them out to the whole band—they all wore them on stage. If they didn’t, they might, literally, go deaf. That’s how loud it was.
“Break a leg,” I whispered to Rob, kissing his cheek as the lights went dark on stage in preparation for Trouble’s entrance.
“Have a great show!” I called after Tyler as he handed his phone to Celeste and put his earplugs in. “Everyone have a great show!”
I didn’t know if they could hear me. None of the rest of the band acknowledged my existence, but that was nothing new.
“They hate me!” I said to Celeste. Well, yelled, really. She shrugged helplessly, putting her own earplugs in. I’d done the research and was glad the tour would be over before the baby could really hear very well. I didn’t want to take any chances.
Celeste sat back down but I couldn’t. The excitement of a show never got old, no matter how many times I saw them perform. I was still in love with their music, and especially with Rob. He and Tyler had always been the front men, the essence of the band. Their dynamic and banter fed the crowd, kept the energy spiraling higher and higher, song after song, as the sun set over the park and thousands of screaming fans.
Night fell, but the energy didn’t ebb. I hadn’t even noticed I was shivering until Celeste put a jacket over my shoulders. It was Rob’s leather and too big on me, but I welcomed it, smiling at her as she handed me a bottle of water. She oversaw keeping me hydrated when Rob wasn’t around. I laughed, unscrewing the cap and taking a long gulp. They were coming up on the end of their first set. They’d run backstage and wait for the crowd to go wild before running on for the encore.
I sang along to Can’t Break a Broken Heart, my favorite Trouble song since the very beginning—although if they recorded them, some of the songs Rob and I were writing now might change that. Sometimes I still couldn’t believe I was writing songs with Rob Burns for Trouble. This was my life now? Someone pinch me!
The song ended, the lights went dark—and now that it was dark outside, that made a dramatic difference. The band rushed off stage, grabbing water bottles, towels, wiping off sweat. Rob grabbed the water bottle from my hand, tipping it back and gulping until it was gone.
“That was mine!” I protested, laughing as he wiped the back of his neck with a towel, putting one damp, bare arm around my waist and pulling me in for a long, deep kiss that left me dizzy and breathless.
“Are you ready for your big debut?” He had to yell for me to hear him over the chanting crowd, not to mention the ear plugs.
I looked at him for a minute, sure I had misunderstood. My what?
It happened so fast I didn’t even have time to protest. They’d planned it, Rob and Tyler and Celeste—that was clear enough in hindsight, the way Tyler and Celeste ran interference with the rest of the band while the roadies set up two stools and ushered me and Rob out onto the stage. Before I knew what was going on, I had an acoustic guitar strapped around my neck and I was sitting on a stool facing Rob, who grinned as the lights went on overhead.
“We’re going to do something special for you tonight.” Rob said into the microphone. I had one in front of me too. That’s when I really saw the crowd. I mean, really saw them. There were so many people out there you couldn’t see the ground. It was just a sea of faces. “This is a brand-new song, something you’ll probably hear on our next album.”
The crowd went crazy at the prospect. I glanced down at the front row and saw girls clamoring to get up on the stage, security urging them to back away.
“Here to help me perform it is Sabrina Taylor.” Rob winked at me when I gaped at him, too stunned to do anything else. “Remember her name because I can guarantee you’ll hear it again.”
Then he started to play.
It was the duet we’d written, Light So Strong, the one we’d been playing and tweaking for weeks, but I’d forgotten all the words. I’d forgotten everything. If Rob hadn’t mentioned my name, I probably wouldn’t have remembered that either. He saw my panic and hooked his boot on one of the supports on my stool, pulling it closer and leaning in, away from the microphone.
“Play, Sabrina!”
I shook my head, staring out at the crowd like a deer in headlights. Was he insane? Play? Play what? I looked down at the guitar like I’d never seen one before.
“A-minor!” Rob called out and I looked at his hands moving on his guitar and suddenly muscle memory kicked in, thank God. The song started started on A-minor. My fingers knew what to do and I began to play along, following Rob around the intro one more time before he started to sing.
And then my world exploded.
I’d been on stage with him once before, the first night we met. I got up on stage and sang Janis Joplin, shaking in my boots—literally. But this, this was something else altogether. This was magic. Alchemy. Utter transformation.
Rob sang, looking at me:
I saw your light, your heart beat so bright, my heart blinded by your radiation—
When we pressed, sliding tight, matchbox friction, hearts alight, burning bright as one—
Chain reaction of love, core meltdown, self-fueling, fusing the chambers of our hearts--
No fallout disaster, no nuclear winter, consumed by the fires, love’s emergency shelter
One night, one life, one breath, one heart, one fire, one light, one love—
A light so strong, there can be no night
One night, one life, one breath, one heart, one love, one light, one love--
A light so bright, there can never be a night
I met his lyrics with mine, piggybacking, meeting his shining eyes under the hot spotlight. I sang to him, for him. The crowd was going wild, but I didn’t hear them, not really. Rob was my whole world.
Your stare pressed me to the wall, your heat undid my heart,
you lit a fire inside my soul—
You stole my sight, with a light so bright,
you cut right through my lies with your x-ray eyes—
Your love’s penetration filled my heart to completion, submission,
overflowing two into one—
I couldn’t lose myself, in our ecstasies, such deep mysteries,
found in the searchlight of our love
Then the chorus, our voices blending just like our bodies did when we had sex, fluid, perfect, so right it brought tears to my eyes.
One night, one life, one breath, one heart, one fire, one light, one love—
A light so strong, there can be no night
One night, one life, one breath, one heart, one love, one light, one love—
A light so bright, there can never be a night
When the song ended, Rob put his arm around my shoulders and we both took a bow as the lights went dark again. Then we were backstage again, both of us talking and laughing at once. I could barely catch my breath. And I couldn’t hear a thing he was saying because I still had earplugs in. I didn’t see the rest of the band, not even Tyler, so I knew they were done for the night. We had been the encore.
Celeste ushered us back to Rob’s trailer where we had waited between rehearsal and the actual show. We always waited out the crowds before even attempting to get back to the hotel.
I realized, as she shut the door behind us, I was still wearing Rob’s oversized jacket and had been, through the whole song. I hadn’t even paid attention to what I was wearing—a pair of yoga pants and a loose-fitting top, nothing special. My hair was pulled back and I couldn’t even remember if I’d put on make-up!
“You are so fucking amazing.” Rob’s lips moved but I heard him like I was underwater, laughing as I reached up to remove my earp
lugs.
“You planned that!” I cried, punching him on the arm as he pulled his earplugs out too, faking being hurt by my onslaught. “You jerk!”
“Oh, I know, making you live the dream in front of all those people,” he said, covering his head as I grabbed one of the pillows off the bed at threw it at him. “I’m such a mean, mean man.”
“You could have warned me!”
“Then you wouldn’t have done it.”
He was right. Damn him.
“But you loved it, didn’t you?” He ducked another punch to grab me around the waist and tackle me to the bed.
“Shut up!” I cried, but I was laughing as we rolled on the little twin mattress. The trailer was nice inside but not big enough for a double bed.
“You did. You fucking loved it!” he exclaimed, kissing me hard and fast. “And they loved you!”
“They did?” I looked up at him, incredulous.
“Didn’t you hear them chanting?” He grinned. “They weren’t chanting Trouble, sweetheart, they were chanting Sa-bree-nah, Sa-bree-nah, Sa-bree-nah!”
“Nuh-uh.” It had all happened so fast. Had they really been chanting my name?
“I knew you’d love it.” His mouth made its way down my neck as he tugged his oversized jacket off my shoulders. “And doing it with you? It’s like fucking you right there on stage in front of all those people.”
I gasped when he shoved my t-shirt up, sliding a hand right under my bra to fondle my breast.
“Rob!” I moaned when he tweaked my nipples, sending hot sparks between my legs. But there was already a fire burning there, and he knew it.
“I know you felt it too,” he urged, sliding his hand under the elastic band of my yoga pants, slipping a finger into my sex. “You’re so fucking wet.”
“Yes,” I admitted with a throaty moan as he fingered me. I was already flying.
“You loved it,” he growled, dipping his head down to suck at my exposed nipple, making my hips buck up.
“Yes!” I cried, rocking with his movements, his calloused thumb strumming my clit. He played me better than any instrument he owned.
“You wanted more,” he insisted, yanking both pants and panties down my thighs.
“Oh fuck, yes,” I cried, as he undid his jeans and pulled out his cock.
“God, we were meant to do this,” he moaned as he rolled me to my side, entering me from behind, both of us still mostly dressed but our most urgent parts uncovered, just enough for us to meet like this, again and again.
“Yes!” I met him, every thrust, matching his intensity. There was no denying it, no denying him.
He had me nailed down, fucking literally, pounding into me so hard I thought we might fall off the bed. I don’t know how we didn’t. I didn’t know anything at all except the feel of him inside me, that hot, aching throb between my legs, and finally, the sweet release that always came with him, every nerve ending in my body on fire.
“Oh baby,” he groaned, thrusting one last, glorious time into my wetness, his mouth right against my ear. “It’s all for you. All of it.”
“Yessssss!” I arched with my own climax, taking every inch of him, every drop, milking his length with my own shuddering spasms of pleasure.
We laid there tangled up, I don’t know how long. Long enough for me to realize that, as good as we were together everywhere else, including in bed, when we were on stage together, we created something else, something bigger than both of us. I felt Rob’s hand move low, cradling my belly like he always did after sex now, checking on her like a good daddy.
We’d created this life together too, I thought, joyful tears coming to my eyes. He was right—we were meant to be together, to love together, to create together.
It was bigger than both of us.
Chapter Twelve
“I haven’t been this relaxed since Aruba.” I stretched and rolled to my belly on the beach blanket we had laid out, forgetting for a moment that was almost five months pregnant. It was like trying to roll over with a basketball in your stomach. I stayed on my side.
“One more show and we can get ready to fly back home.” Rob reached over, still on his back, only wearing sunglasses, and took my hand as I settled myself up on my elbow.
“Are you sure no one uses this beach?” I shaded my eyes, peering down the stretch of sand.
“Celeste rented the house.” Rob sat, reaching for a water bottle he had half stuck in the sand. “This beach is private property. And no one knows we’re here.”
The house she’d rented was a sweet little villa on the French Riviera. We had done two shows in France already and would do another tomorrow night. Then it would be time to go home. I couldn’t quite believe it was over. And I still couldn’t believe Rob had insisted on bringing me on stage to sing at every single show since Germany. I didn’t know what I would miss more, Europe or performing on stage.
“I can’t believe we’re going home.” I stared out across the water, thoughtful. I felt the baby move and smiled. Some part of me was glad to be going home.
“I can’t wait.” Rob took a long pull on the water bottle, wiping sweat from his brow. “My own bed. With you in it. Now that’s heaven.”
I remembered that bed, his bed, fondly.
“Your bed?” I raised my eyebrows at him.
“Our bed.” He ran a hand over my ribs, dipping into the curve of my waist before sliding up over my hip. “And we aren’t leaving it for at least week.”
“Well, we’ve got until Labor Day.”
“Oh no.” He shook his head, offering me a drink of water. He’d been paranoid about keeping my hydrated since Ireland. We never went anywhere without bottled water. “I told you, you’re taking a sabbatical. You’ll have to go on maternity leave in November anyway, right?”
I sighed. We’d had this discussion a dozen times already.
“Hey, am I crazy, or is there someone on that boat with a camera?” I squinted against the light and Rob frowned, grabbing his swim trunks and sliding them on before standing to peer out at the water.
I grabbed my towel and wrapped it around myself—not that it would do much good. We’d been swimming and walking around nude all afternoon. We’d been doing that for two days. If someone was out there taking photographs with a zoom lens, they already had plenty of material. The thought made me sick to my stomach. The paparazzi couldn’t post nude photos of celebrities, could they?
“Goddamn.” Rob swore under his breath as I got up to stand next to him. “I think you’re right.”
I was. We left the blanket and went into the house, heading for the shower, but Rob’s phone was buzzing. The message was from Celeste, and it wasn’t good news. Rob didn’t even finish listening to it before someone was pounding on the front door of the villa. I quickly put on shorts and a t-shirt, following him downstairs to answer the door.
“It’s all over the tabloids.” Celeste slammed a paper down on the kitchen island. It was written in French, of course, but the picture on the front was clear enough. It must have been taken the first day we’d been in the villa—I was wearing a bikini that first day, white with red polka dots, too nervous to go skinny dipping yet.
Me and Rob on a beach again. Except this time, I was very, obviously pregnant.
I couldn’t read the headline, but I had taken French for a few years in high school and I recognized one word. Gravide. Pregnant. And of course, the word “Trouble” in English.
“She saw it?”
“Everyone saw it!” Celeste snapped. “It’s all over! All the TV news magazines have picked it up. TMZ is having a field day. Even Entertainment Tonight covered it.”
“Fuck.” Rob sank onto one of the kitchen chairs, paling. “She’s never going to give up now.”
“Well, she can’t force you to say married.” I looked at Celeste. “Right? I mean, even if she gets half, that’s really all she can—”
“Sabrina, she wants—”
“Celeste!” Rob’s head came up
sharply.
“She wants what?” I looked between the two of them, frowning. “What? How bad could it be?”
“She wants…” He swallowed, meeting my eyes. “She wants the rights to our songs.”
“But…” I sank down onto the chair beside him, my knees feeling shaky. “But she can’t do that, can she?”
“She can if she wrote them.” Celeste took off her sunglasses and put them on the island with a sigh.
“She didn’t write them.” I looked at Rob. “You did.”
“I… did a stupid thing.” He ran a hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck. “I put her name on some of them.”
“You did what?” I whispered. “Why?”
“That’s a good question,” Celeste commented, fiddling with her Blackberry, ostensibly doing damage control.
“Okay, okay. I had my reasons.” Rob shot her a dark look before answering me. “Look, we weren’t married at the time. I thought… I wanted to give her something, and it was early, our second album. I thought I was in love with her…”
“You could have just put a ‘thank you’ in the liner notes,” Celeste muttered.
Rob ignored her. “So now she wants the rights to the songs her names are on.”
“Oh Rob.” My eyes widened, realizing now what that meant. “The second album. That’s… not… Can’t Break a Broken Heart?”
He nodded miserably.
“But she didn’t write them?” I asked, looking between the two of them. “Did she?”
“No.” He shook his head. “And I only put it in the liner notes. They’re not copyrighted to her.”
“Oh!” I sat back, relieved. “Well then she really has no claim to them, does she?”
“She might.” Rob made a face. “The lawyer’s fighting it, but he says copyright is tricky and unfortunately, hard to prove in court, even if you have all your ducks in a row.”