Lie to Me (Rising Star Book 1)

by Lee Piper

  Anger courses through my veins. “So? What business is it of yours? Last time I checked, you’re not my mother. Heck, keep this up and you won’t even be my friend.” I jut out my chin. “What gives you the right to manipulate us, huh? You’re not a chess master, and we sure as fuck aren’t your pawns.” Poking him in the chest, I continue. “That was a dick move, buddy.”

  “You love him!” Tobias yells, taking me by surprise. “It’s been three fuckin’ years and you haven’t moved on! I had to see it for myself.” He shakes his head. “And I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but he couldn’t care less about you.”

  I inhale, his words cutting me deep.

  “He wouldn’t even look you in the eye.”

  Wow.

  I stare at my feet, trying to pull together the remnants of my shattered heart. It takes longer than expected. “You’re such an asshole.” Damn it, my voice breaks.

  With a groan, Tobias pulls me into his arms. He holds me close. “Fucking hell.” His cheek rests on the top of my head. “Can’t you see? You’ve got everything to lose and nothing to gain here. He’s gonna break your heart.”

  Moving back slightly, I gaze at him. “Impossible. I don’t have a heart left to break.”

  “C’mon, you two love birds,” my brother interjects, strolling into the studio. “Kiss and make up already. We’ve got a song to rehearse.”

  I shake my head, pitying the poor soul who thinks she can tame Jasper. She hasn’t a snowmobile’s chance in hell.

  “Forgive me?” Tobias asks.

  “Why do we always end our conversations with this question?”

  He kisses my forehead. “It’s the nature of the beast, I guess.” With a wink, he turns back to his drums.

  “Don’t forget, we’re heading out tonight,” Jasper calls.

  “Are you organizing it?” I’ve got a right to be suspicious. “Because if you wanna take us to that strip joint where women shoot ping-pong balls from their vaginas again, I’m out.”

  “Relax, sis. Reid is organizing tonight’s festivities.”

  “Reid?” Pretty sure my chin hits the floor.

  “Yeah.” He shrugs. “Don’t underestimate the guy. He knows how to party.”

  Tobias’s expression is hard.

  “So are you coming out or what?” Jasper asks.

  “I guess.”

  A bass pedal is hurled across the room. I ignore it.

  Probably for the best.

  “Karaoke?” I ask.

  Willow leads me upstairs to Mao’s Last Gangsta, Bayview’s premier venue for all things cheesy.

  “Reid’s genius plan involves watching my nearest and dearest make asses of themselves singing karaoke?”

  Willow winks at me over her shoulder. “I know, right?”

  “Love it.”

  If he was planning an evening catered solely to my tastes, he couldn’t have done better. We even had steak sandwiches in the bar downstairs before it turned into ladies’ night. Though once the strobe lights did their level best to induce seizures on unsuspecting partygoers, I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Jasper, however, needed more coaxing.

  We finally make it to the top of the stairs and move down a narrow corridor. There are cordoned-off rooms with locked doors on each side. They’re named after famous bands, and I’m pleased to note ours is a prog rock band I’m a huge fan of. I’m taking it as a sign.

  As soon as we step inside, Jasper dives for the remote. He’s a douche like that. “I call dibs.”

  “What are you, twelve?” Rolling my eyes, I move to the black leather U-shaped bench seat lining three walls. There’s a large flat screen TV on the fourth.

  Willow sits next to me, scanning the room. It’s a small rectangular space painted a deep ochre with generic black-and-white prints of microphones and boom boxes hung on opposing walls. “Nice.”

  Drake saunters in with a tray full of drinks. He places it on the low coffee table in the center. “Let the shenanigans begin.”

  Tobias and Reid are close behind, each moving to opposite sides of the room. When my gaze takes in Reid, I swallow. Loudly. He is mouth-wateringly delicious. Indifferent, but delicious. It’s highly possible his dark T-shirt was spray-painted on, while those worn jeans deserve a standing ovation. His hair is pulled up into a man-bun, and I want to know who I have to thank for the style trend because they’re at the top of my Christmas card list. Reid’s gaze shifts to mine, but I quickly look away. There’s no way I’m letting him snub me a second time. Fool me once and all that.

  I grab a bottle of beer.

  “Prepare yourselves, my singing ability is out of this world,” Jasper says.

  There is nothing quite like my brother willingly making a dick of himself. I check for the phone in my pocket. Yep, still there. Hell yes, I’m going to record incriminating footage. After all, who knows when I’ll need to blackmail him next? Best to be prepared for that shit.

  Willow grins. “Wasn’t this a great idea?”

  I nod, on account of my mouthful of beer.

  “Depends on your definition of great,” Tobias grumbles next to her. “I can’t drink or sing. Place is my worst fucking nightmare.”

  After swallowing, I glance at him. “How did I not know you hated karaoke?”

  He shrugs, gesturing to Willow and myself. “You girls can hold a tune. I, however, sound like Chewbacca with sinusitis.”

  I throw my head back laughing. “Oh my God, you do too.”

  “Bitch.” Tobias glares at me, though the corners of his lips twitch in amusement.

  Willow attempts to stifle her laughter. Unsuccessfully, I might add, since she’s snickering into her beer.

  “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up while you can, ladies. I’m gonna get you both so rolling drunk, you won’t even remember my epic fail.”

  I hold up my hands. “Not me, you won’t. I’m singing tomorrow night, remember? I need to stay fresh. In fact”—I place my drink on the coffee table—“I’m only going to sing one song. The rest of the time, I’m gonna be laughing my ass off at you fools.”

  “Cute.” Tobias scowls

  Willow nudges Tobias’s shoulder, coaxing a smile out of him. “It won’t be so bad, you’ll see.” Her eyes light up. “Maybe you could be a backup singer or something? You know, share the limelight with someone else? I’m sure Jasper would be happy to have you.”

  Tobias drops his head into his hands. “Fuck me.”

  Willow and I grin at each other.

  “Brilliant,” I mouth.

  I lose count of the number of times I double over in hysterics at the antics of my friends and family. It’s the most fun I’ve had in forever. Something about being cocooned in a small room with those I genuinely care about reminds me of why I sing.

  Community.

  Music gives me the opportunity to be a part of something bigger than myself. And funnier. Watching my bandmates make utter dicks of themselves is priceless. It reaffirms my desire to become a force to be reckoned with on stage. Not that I’d ever take the spotlight away from Willow, who is totally owning the mic.

  “You’d better watch yourself, Drake,” I holler. “She could easily pass as a lead singer.”

  He nods, awestruck. We all applaud and wolf whistle when she takes a final, albeit sheepish, bow, her face flushed from a combination of alcohol and endorphins.

  “Thanks, guys,” she murmurs.

  Tobias butchers an absolute classic. Tears. So many tears. How he recreates the sound of a goose being systematically tickled then slaughtered, I’ll never know. A stitch in my side is doing its damn best to kill me from laughing so hard. Willow is just as bad. At one point, she actually rolls off the bench seat and lies on the floor, hooting with laughter.

  When we finally compose ourselves, I lean in close to her. “Was Tobias crushing on someone before Tiffany?”

  “Why are you asking me? He’s your bestie.”

  “His song is about unrequited love. Strange, don’t you think
?”

  She shrugs. “It’s got a catchy tempo. Maybe that’s all there is to it?”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  Mental note—interrogate best friend.

  Second mental note—make sure he’s not pissed at you first.

  Shaking my head, I scream my appreciation once he’s finished. Jasper gives him a high five on the way back to his seat, then jumps up to have yet another go.

  “Have you got enough footage of your brother?” Willow asks.

  Checking my phone, I smirk. “Plenty.” When Jasper’s song starts, I groan. “Of course he would choose this one. It’s got a three-minute guitar solo before the final verse. What a self-indulgent ass.”

  Willow giggles.

  Glancing at Drake, I notice he’s nodding in approval.

  “Idiots, both of them,” I mutter.

  Throughout it all, Reid is a bystander. He claps and heckles but, like me, doesn’t reach for the mic. I’m curious what song he would choose if given the chance. Would it be a lame classic or something serious? I honestly have no idea, and the thought makes me sad. I guess we don’t know each other anymore.

  I sigh.

  Way to ruin the mood, Shiloh.

  Hours pass and the songs become slower, more meaningful until it gets to the point where people aren’t interested in singing. Tobias is passed out, Willow and Jasper are debating existentialism, and Reid is downstairs, paying the bill. So I figure now is the perfect opportunity.

  I make my way over to the remote control and scroll through the different categories. “Funk? No. RnB? No. Country? No fucking way. Alternative rock? Hmm, haven’t been down this rabbit hole in a while.”

  Perusing the options in this genre, I discount all of them until I land on a familiar title. I gasp, cover my mouth, and try not to burst into tears. This song. The years dissipate and suddenly I’m curled on my bed, bawling my eyes out. It takes everything I have to blink away the image, to get a freaking grip on reality and push away the utter devastation of returning to an empty house.

  Alone.

  Hollow.

  Broken.

  Jeff Buckley’s cover of John Cale’s “Hallelujah” stares back at me. My finger presses Play before my mind screams lunacy. I close my eyes as the opening guitar riffs swirl around me.

  There are many opinions about what this song is actually about. Some people think the lyrics are a religious declaration, while others argue they’re nothing more than poorly composed poetry. I, however, believe it’s about love. Not the joyous love Hallmark uses for their seasonal propaganda. Fuck no. It’s the kind of love that lays you bare, cuts you open, and watches, enraptured, while you bleed.

  Terrifying love.

  Since no one is paying attention, I sway in time with the music, the haunting melody surrounding me in a blanket of emotion. After the lengthy intro, I sing. My voice is low, husky, full of everything I’ve wanted to say yet never had the balls to express. Strangely, singing about one of the most painful experiences of my life is cathartic, like a PTSD victim reliving her trauma from the safety of a psychologist’s couch. The music pulls me in, the lyrics own my soul, and my demons are exorcised—just this once.

  I sing about two very different people drawn together by an unfathomable bond. I sing about the depravity of love, of its cruelty and malice. I sing about loving someone too much, to the point where it actually feels as if you’re dying inside.

  I sing.

  And it hurts. It hurts so fucking much. However, I relish the pain because it serves as a reminder of everything Reid and I once shared. Yeah, we were young, but there was no denying what we felt. We loved. We loved hard.

  My voice fades through the shitty speaker and I open my eyes, blinking.

  Oh hell.

  Everyone is staring. Drake’s eyes are glassy, and a distinct sniffle comes from Willow’s direction. Jasper’s jaw is working hard, and even Tobias is awake, shaking his head in astonishment. My grip on the mic tightens as I bite my lower lip.

  “I’ve done it again, haven’t I?” My attempt at laughter is pitiful.

  Silence.

  Get the fuck out of here, my head screams.

  After fumbling with the off switch, my trembling fingers place the mic on the coffee table now littered with empty glasses and bottles. I wipe sweaty hands down the front of my pants and turn to leave.

  A gust of air escapes me. “Reid.”

  For the love of Christmas.

  He heard. He heard every word, every sigh, every effing emotion I not so subtly shared with the entire room. Closing my eyes, I draw on a strength I never knew I possessed and move to where he’s standing stock still in the doorway. I’m not looking him in the face. I will not watch the lightning storm before it strikes. I just want to go home, hide under my bedcovers, and become a hermit. For life. Yep, I’ll dedicate the rest of my days to the hermitage that is my cotton bed sheets. Awesome.

  Reid blocks my exit. “Shiloh.”

  “Don’t.” I shake my head, my voice a broken whisper. “Please don’t.” Proving myself nimbler than I thought, I duck under his arm and get the hell out of there.

  Sadly, my plan to become a hermit is short-lived. Jasper orders me out of bed the next morning, claiming I need a shower. If the smell wafting from my armpits didn’t make me light-headed, I’d totally deck him.

  Forty minutes later, we arrive at Rising Star. The boys and I set up our equipment in silence. Tobias’s brows are furrowed as he maneuvers his snare until satisfied. It sits atop an old Indian rug that has been with him from the moment he joined our band. They’re a two-for-one deal, and he’s lucky he’s talented because that moth-eaten eyesore is beyond disgusting. He taps the drum.

  “How does it sound?” I ask.

  “Fine.”

  “Are you gonna talk to me today?”

  Tobias turns his attention to his high hats. “We’re talking now.”

  I sigh. “Sure, we are.” Slowly, I make my way to my brother. His eyes are closed and his head is tilted while he tunes his Gibson. “You almost ready?”

  He looks at me and grins. “Hells yeah. We’re gonna rock their socks off this week.”

  “Lame.” I roll my eyes as a familiar ball of tension forms in my stomach. There will be so many people at this show. Our audience is growing larger each time we’re on stage, meaning I fluctuate between wanting to whoop and wanting to burst into tears.

  Yay.

  Fuck my life.

  Yay.

  Fuck my life.

  My internal dialogue is driving me insane.

  Jasper carefully places his guitar on its stand before grasping my shoulders. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Not buying it, sis.”

  “I’m fine. Honest.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep.”

  His grip tightens. “Then why haven’t you stopped nodding?”

  “Oh.” I freeze, somewhat concerned about needing a reminder.

  The door flies open. Vivienne waltzes into our tiny studio, her frazzled PA behind her. I could have sucked face with the woman for her timely interruption.

  “This conversation isn’t over,” my brother whispers.

  “Listen closely,” Vivienne orders.

  Tobias stops what he’s doing and moves to where Jasper and I are standing.

  Vivienne stands tall, her piercing gaze resting on each of us in turn. At last, she clears her throat. “Your band has the ability to make it through to the finals.” Her mouth twitches. I think she’s smiling. “You have a strong support base of voters and, surprisingly, Bradley Reading’s endorsement.” She sniffs.

  Jasper gasps.

  “Winning this competition is not simply about signing a recording contract. It is about Rising Star giving you the platform to show the world exactly what you are capable of.” Vivienne waves a bejewelled hand. “It is about super stardom.” Her eyes land on me. “Do not waste this opportunity.”

  I swa
llow.

  Beside me, Jasper nods once. It appears he has better control of his motor skills than I do.

  Vivienne and her PA remain for a while longer, discussing the details of our next performance. They pay particular attention to the size of the crowd and the importance of building rapport with them during our song.

  When the two women finally vacate the room, Jasper turns to us. He blinks. His expression slowly changes from bafflement to excitement as reality hits. “Holy fucking shit. Did you hear that? She basically said we can win this competition.” With a shout, he picks me up and spins us in a circle. “We’re gonna make it. We’re gonna make the big time.”

  When at last he drops me on my feet, I’m smiling. Pure joy radiates from him, and it’s heartwarming. Nearby, Tobias grins like a fool.

  Jasper’s eyes are bright. “This is our chance to show the world what we’re made of.” He moves to Tobias and slaps him on the back. “Man, I can’t wait to play. Our next performance is gonna be fuckin’ huge.”

  Jesus effing Christ.

  That ball of tension in my stomach is now a boulder of absolute dread. With each breath, it grows exponentially larger, suffocating me from the inside out. My mind races. If we reach the finals, we’ll have an audience of thousands. Thousands. I scrub one hand down my face. My skin is hot and clammy.

  I can’t breathe.

  Somewhere nearby, a door slams. A voice calls something, though I can’t understand what they’re saying. No. I’m too fixated on the fact that the success of my band rests solely on me. A demophobe. A woman traumatized by the past and terrified of the future.

  Jesus fuck.

  My chest is tight. My vision blurs. My body sways. I’m pretty sure I’m about to puke. Spots appear before my eyes. I blink, but they don’t go away.

  Darkness.

  I smell Reid. Taking a deep breath only confirms it. Weird. His delectable man-musk surrounds me.

  “I think she’s coming to.”

  Slowly, I open my eyes. It takes a minute for my surroundings to come into focus, but soon enough my vision is clear. “Jasper?”