by Lee Piper
“And of course, it will be televised live.” She sniffs. “We’re expecting our highest ratings yet.”
“Yeah?”
“Eighteen million.”
“Eighteen million people?” My brother is beyond excited.
I, however, want to get the fuck out of here.
“Yes.” She blinks. “Now, listen carefully.”
Our director discusses the logistics of tomorrow night, but she might as well be speaking Swahili. Surprisingly, my anxiety is more fixated on the full house rather than the number of people watching the televised show. I figure people tucked safely away in their living rooms don’t need my fear projected onto them. It’s the live audience I’m more worried about. However, when the words pyrotechnic display are spoken, I snap out of my stupor.
“Hang on, you’ve organized a pyrotechnic display?”
“Sis,” my brother warns.
Vivienne’s collagen-filled lips compress into a tight line. “That is what I said, yes. There will also be smoke machines and choreographed dancers in cages suspended from the ceiling.”
“Fuck no.”
A sculptured eyebrow disappears into the hairline of her stylized bob. She draws up to her full height. “I beg your pardon?”
Beside me, Jasper hisses, “Shut. Up. Sis.”
But there’s no way I’m letting this go.
Shifting Tobias’s weight onto my brother, I step forward. “This isn’t a cheesy night club. You’re losing sight of what’s important here. Fans aren’t voting for fireworks, they’re not moshing because of smoke machines, and they sure as fuck won’t be cheering for choreographed dancers. They want music. Honest to God music.”
My gestures grow more erratic with each sentence. “Audience’s want dirty guitar riffs, thundering drum beats, and vocals that blow their ever-loving minds. They want to drown in our sound until everything fades into oblivion, until there’s nothing left in their complex, convoluted lives except pure, unadulterated happiness.” My breathing is rapid. “That’s what this is about. That’s why we’re here. That’s why we get out of freaking bed in the morning, because of the music.”
Glancing about me, I continue. “Do you know what it’s like to share your love with people who feel exactly the same way? Being able to sing about experiences they’ve been through too? It’s fucking magic. In that one moment, people from all over come together for a common cause. And you’re losing sight of that by focusing on fucking dancers and light displays.”
I take a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry for being so blunt, but every word is the God honest truth.” I shove my hands in my pockets. “End rant.”
Even though he wanted me to remain quiet, I can sense Jasper smiling behind me. And I hope, despite his whiskey-induced fog, Tobias is equally impressed. Vivienne’s PA is slack-jawed, and the woman who bore the brunt of my tirade is so still she could pass as a mannequin.
Eventually, Vivienne clears her throat. Pointing at her PA, she barks, “Make a note of it.”
Dazed, I return to my bandmates.
For the next hour, Vivienne talks to us about tomorrow night. It’s going to be crazy, the most surreal experience of my life. I want to rock the shit out of this performance. I want to feel the adrenaline only singing live can bring. However, my subconscious continuously reminds me of the lyrics I’ve yet to write. When this happens, my stomach plummets somewhere near the earth’s core and terror paralyzes my body. But then I swallow, breathe, and vow the words will come when they’re ready.
I hope.
God, I fucking hope.
When our director and her PA finally leave, Jasper turns to me. “Let’s head to the studio. We need to practice.”
Between us, Tobias groans.
Grimacing, I take in my best friend. His skin is flushed, beads of sweat trickle down his cheek, and he’s more than a little green around the edges.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jasper.”
My brother, however, is determined. “We have to get this song down. You heard what Vivienne said—we’re gonna have a packed house and millions of people watching us. We can’t screw this up.”
Tobias sways.
My hand goes out to steady him. “Look, I hear what you’re saying, but I don’t think it’s possible right now.”
“But the finals—”
“Idontfeeltoogood.” As though in slow motion, Tobias pitches forward and throws up. Everywhere.
Jasper jumps back, swearing. I rub Tobias’s heaving frame in slow circles, murmuring softly in his ear. When I find myself making false promises like, “You’re okay. It’s all going to be fine,” I stop. It takes a while, but eventually he quiets.
Leading him to an empty chair in the wings, I help him sit. “Won’t be long.”
Scurrying backstage, I manage to locate a mop and bucket. After that, I raid the janitor’s closet for hospital-strength cleaning agents before filling the bucket with water from the sink. On my way back, I pass a vending machine, so I grab a sports drink. Tobias is in desperate need of electrolytes.
Once I return to where my friend is slumped in his seat, I pass him the open bottle. “Here.”
“Thanks.” With trembling fingers, he takes it.
I indicate to the mop and bucket. “I’m gonna go clean up.”
He groans, holding his head with one hand.
Jasper is pacing when I return to the stage. “Thank fuck the production team isn’t here. This is a disaster. A complete fucking disaster.” He rounds on me. “What are we gonna do?”
Holding my breath, I begin operation This is so Freaking Gross.
“Well?” he barks.
I glare at him. “Get your panties out your ass and wait until we’re home. I’m trying not to breathe in rancid fumes here.” I dial up the sass. “And thank you, by the way. You’ve been a huge help.”
“I don’t do vomit.”
“Princess.”
He rolls his eyes and continues pacing.
I manage to remove the evidence of Tobias’s bad decisions and, after washing out the bucket, return the equipment to where I found it. Jasper and I then begin the strenuous task of helping Tobias to the car. We have to pull over three times on the way home, but once we make it inside the house, I set him up on the couch.
“Don’t forget the spew bucket.”
“Jesus Christ.” I tuck the blanket around my friend and put a fresh bottle of water nearby. He’s shaking. With hands on hips, I face my brother. “Pretty sure he’s got nothing left in his stomach except lining. I think we’re good.”
“But what about—”
“We’re good, Jasper.”
“Nothing about this situation is good.”
Staring pointedly at the kitchen, I move to the other room with Jasper close behind.
Once out of ear shot, he cries, “What are we gonna do?” He ticks off each point on his fingers. “We haven’t got the drums sorted, Tobias is comatose, and we don’t know if your lyrics fit.” He grips the back of his neck. “We haven’t even played the song through once, and we’re performing it in front of millions tomorrow night! Millions!”
I hate seeing him like this. Clasping his shoulders, I give him a gentle shake. “Dude, relax.”
Irony is pissing itself laughing right now.
“We’ll get up early, sort out the rest of the song, and have it ready to go by sound check.” Fingers crossed I have the lyrics written by then. Internally shaking my head, I return to the problem at hand. “You need to hide the liquor better.”
“We need to do more than that. We can’t let Tobias out of our sight.”
“Agreed.”
“And we have to make sure nothing triggers his drinking.”
Removing my hands, I cross them in front of my chest. “Meaning?”
It’s Jasper’s turn to glare. “You know what I mean.”
“I’m not going to stop seeing Reid. I’ve already explained it to Tobias and now I’m telling you.”
“It’s only for one day.”
“That’s beside the point. You’re trying to dictate who I hang out with.”
“But you’re not hanging out with Reid, you’re fucking him. Huge difference. You’re rubbing Tobias’s face in it every time he sees the two of you together.”
My phone rings. Somehow, I know exactly who it is. Pulling the device from my pocket only confirms it.
Reid.
Jasper notices the name on screen. “You never deleted his number, did you?”
I shrug.
“Don’t answer it.” His voice holds a warning.
My finger hovers over the accept call button.
“I’m serious. Don’t you dare.”
“I love you, brother, I do. But I care about Reid too.” Swiping the screen, I raise the phone to my ear. “Reid, hi.”
A fist slams through the kitchen wall. Clouds of dust and fragmented plasterboard spill into the room.
“The fuck?” Reid’s low voice is urgent. “Darlin’, are you okay?”
Jasper kicks a chair, sending it flying. After throwing empty glasses, bowls, and plates against the rear window, he upends the kitchen table and storms out.
“I need words.”
It’s then I realize I’ve been holding my breath. My exhale is ragged as I attempt to blink away the tears blurring my vision. And fail. Oh boy, do I fail. They tumble, one after the other, refusing to be withheld.
Wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, I reply, “No, not really.”
“I’m coming over.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Don’t care. If you’re upset, I don’t want you on your own.”
“But—”
“Be there in ten.” The line goes dead.
I’ve barely wiped the snot dripping from my nose and straightened what’s left of the kitchen furniture when there’s a knock at the front door. Figuring Jasper can clean up the rest of his damn mess, I move past Tobias’s sleeping frame and answer it.
“Hey.”
Reid steps inside. His hair is disheveled, as though he raked anxious fingers through it only moments ago. Those gray eyes are wide, frantically searching my face, and within seconds, he has me pressed against the wall. His large hands skim my body. “You okay? Are you hurt? If you have so much as a paper cut, I’m gonna kill the motherfucker who gave it to you.” He cups my face.
His touch is heaven. Callused thumbs wipe stray tears while his hips press against my stomach. There’s an intensity in his gaze I’ve never seen before. My heart rate spikes, the tempo rivaling a blast beat.
I breathe in the man. His familiar woodsy spice teases my nostrils. His scent must have medicinal qualities because the tension inside me dissipates and I’m left a boneless heap of emotional gloop.
“I’m okay.” My voice is shaky.
Coiled tension radiates from him. “No, you’re not.” He glances at the kitchen. Its impersonation of Chernobyl is on point—minus the deadly radiation levels. His brows furrow. “Who was tearing up the place?”
I sigh. “Jasper.” Those gorgeous eyes narrow to slits. Putting a placating hand on his heaving chest, I murmur, “He would never hurt me. Never. He lost his cool, that’s all.”
“That’s all?” He is incredulous. “You’re protecting him?”
Even though I take my hands away, Reid refuses to let me go. “No, of course not. He’s a hothead. We both are.” I shrug. “It’s how we deal.”
“He needs to find another fuckin’ way to deal.”
My smile is weak. “The kitchen felt the brunt of his anger, not me.”
He presses his forehead against mine.
Warmth spreads through me. Wrapping my arms around his waist, I lean against him. “I’m glad you’re here.”
His shoulders relax. “Me too, darlin’.”
“Um, Tobias is nearby. We probably shouldn’t—”
Before I can so much as offer a half-hearted objection, Reid swoops me into his arms. Literally. He carries me like a virgin bride minus the v-card and taffeta. Somehow he locks the front door, walks upstairs, closes and locks my bedroom door, and lays me on the bed without letting go.
I’ve never felt safer.
He settles our bodies until we’re facing each other. Even though our legs entwine and there’s barely a slither of space between us, for the life of me, I can’t get close enough. I snuggle against his worn T-shirt, a satisfied smile on my face.
“What happened with Jasper?”
Even though my smile fades, I don’t hesitate to retell today’s events. After all, it’s Reid. We have no secrets. So with fingers tracing the combed cotton of his shirt, I talk. About my lackluster writing session at the beach, Tobias finding the liquor, our shitty production meeting, getting up close and personal with Tobias’s stomach contents, Jasper freaking out, his phone call, being warned against answering it, and doing it anyway.
It’s only when those final words pass my lips that I pause. And like the shockwaves of an explosion, it hits me.
Reid must notice my ill-timed realization because he tips my chin until our eyes meet. “What is it? You’ve gone quiet.”
Oh boy. Steeling myself, I murmur, “Us being together… it’s hurting Tobias. Heck, we’re hurting Jasper too.” I swallow and lick suddenly dry lips. “I am consciously choosing to do something that causes pain to those I care about because… because of you.”
His Adam’s apple bobs on a hard swallow. He needn’t worry though. This isn’t me pushing him away. Hell no.
I’m in love with you.
Jesus Christ, I love him. I never stopped. It’s lucky I’m lying down because there’s no way my center of gravity can handle this shit.
Clearing my throat, I attempt to say the words. I try to force them past my tongue. “I, ah…”
But they refuse to come. Story of my life. So instead, I lose myself in his eyes, which are suddenly full of an emotion I can’t identify.
“Kiss me, Reid.”
His gaze searches mine. Possibly to determine how many times I was dropped on my head as a baby. Or maybe he’s hunting for the words I can’t say? I’m not sure. What he finds in my expression must be enough, however, because he leans forward and his lips touch mine.
I exhale.
His mouth is soft, gentle, and so damn tender my eyes threaten to well once again. He kisses first my top lip, then my bottom, sucking them one at a time. I open for him, wanting more, needing him to lose control and take me completely. But he holds back, refusing to be hurried. It’s as though we have all the time in the world, as if today wasn’t utter chaos and tomorrow doesn’t bring professional suicide. There is only the present, this moment, us.
Callused fingers graze my neck, my collarbone, and skim the length of my arms. They slide under my shirt, caressing my stomach before teasing the underside of my breast.
I moan.
Reid pushes me onto my back, his knee pressing between my thighs. I can feel him harden against me, and it’s enough to drive me insane.
“Reid.” My voice is desperate.
“Yeah, darlin’?”
“Make love to me.”
He stills then pulls back. “You want me to make love to you?”
Swallowing, I nod.
“I’m not that kind of man.”
I snort. Granted, not the sexiest of gestures, but in my defense, he’s being an idiot. “Sure, you’re not.”
Raising up on one elbow, he looks at me. Indecision mars his perfect features. “I’m not.”
“Uh huh. What about when you touch me? When your fingers worship my skin? What about when you whisper sweet words while inside me?”
“I whisper dirty words too.”
My smile is wide. “Admit it, on the outside, you’re all alpha, but really you’re a closet romantic.”
His expression turns predatory. “I’m not a fuckin’ romantic. I take care of my woman, that’s all.”
Ignoring the
shivers playing havoc with my resolve, I tuck some hair behind his ear. “I don’t want roses, champagne, or cheesy one-liners. That shit means nothing to me.” My hand traces his jawline. “I just want…” I hope there is a God and I can say what is in my head. “I want to mean more than a fuck to you.”
He stares at me for the longest time. “You’ve always been more than a fuck to me.”
“Even when you hated me?”
“Especially when I hated you.”
Skimming his lips with my fingers, I whisper, “What about when the competition is over? What happens then?”
“We keep doin’ what we’re doin’.”
Full. My heart is completely full.
But I still have one nagging question. After licking my bottom lip, I murmur, “Why me?”
His forehead crinkles in confusion. “Huh?”
“After everything I’ve done, why are you still here… with me?”
Gray eyes sear my soul. “Because it’s always been you. Ever since we were kids. Was written in the stars or some shit.”
There’s no stopping my grin. “And you say you’re not a romantic.”
He blinks. Then with a low growl, Reid captures my mouth. The kiss is purposeful, deliberate. His tongue teases and twirls with my own. It’s at once dominant yet compliant, forceful yet tender, possessive yet permissive. When he breaks away, his breathing is heavy.
Without a word, Reid strips me from my clothes. His gaze rakes my naked body writhing on the coverlet, and the pulse in his neck jumps. “I’m going to own you.”
Shockwaves ripple through me.
You already do.
He nips my earlobe. “Every gasp, every sigh, every motherfucking moan will be mine.”
They already are.
But the thought is lost. Every rational part of me vanishes because Reid pushes to his knees, reaches behind him, and pulls his T-shirt over his head.
Oh. My. Ever. Loving. Miracle. Performing. God.
I don’t know where to look first. With Hershey’s as my witness, it’s like being at an all-you-can-eat dessert buffet. My eyes gorge on Reid’s muscular shoulders before savoring his defined pecs. They drink in every last ridge and groove of his washboard abs before sliding lower to marvel at the delectable indented V. Then, because I’m a greedy bitch, I zero in on his jeans-covered cock.