Jackson has blonde hair and blues eyes. He’s tall but thin. A runner. Very health conscious. Does everything he’s supposed to and is perfect in every way. Jackson was born to go to Harvard Law School and his parents made sure he never once deviated from that path. He never does anything to stray from his narrow upper middle-class upbringing.
Something tells me Nic Rayne was not raised in the same way Jackson was. I’m not sure why but it’s a feeling I get when I’m around him. He’s got an edge to him that you don’t find in guys like Jackson. It makes me think that his upbringing was anything but typical.
“If you really want to know what it’s like to be on the road with Always Rayne—to be one of us—to know what our life is like, I expect you to be with me all day, every day.”
I gulp. I guess that wasn’t really what I was expecting.
“What wrong?”
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“Don’t lie.”
Nic’s expression is serious. How can he tell I’m lying? And it’s not really a lie. Just a little white one.
“I’m not sure I’m the person for this job. I mean. Look at you.” I point at him. “And look at me.” I point to myself. “We’re so different.”
He bites back a grin. I hate it when he does that. He comes across as so smug and arrogant. “At least you’re not wearing your hippy librarian clothes. This is definitely an improvement. Even if it is a little mismatched.”
I look down at my ensemble. A beige and white checkered top paired with a blue mini skirt. The color combo might be a little off.
“These aren’t even my own clothes,” I admit. “I borrowed then from my roommate.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“You want to be a writer, don’t you?”
I nod.
“Then you’ve got to broaden your horizons a bit. Experience new things. Take risks. Be adventurous. Be like Nellie Bly.”
“She took a seventy-two day trip around the world. I can barely wrap my head around this ten-day tour with the band. And she faked insanity in order to do an exposé on the treatment of patients in mental institutions. Being on tour with a band is insane enough for me. I’m definitely no Nellie Bly.”
“She was a pioneer in investigative journalism. And you’ll be a pioneer too. By embedding yourself with a rock band.”
“It’s not exactly breaking new ground. Cameron Crowe wrote a movie about it. Almost Famous. It’s about a teenager who goes on the road with a rock band and writes about it for Rolling Stone.”
“You’ll be the first reporter to ever go on the road with Always Rayne.”
I roll my eyes at him. “That makes me feel a whole lot better.”
“I aim to please,” he teases.
The sounds of laughter are coming from the other room. We both turn towards to door. “The guys must be here.”
I can feel myself getting nervous again.
“Ready to meet them?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
As I follow Nic into the living room, I can feel three sets of eyes on me. Leo, Xander and a dark-haired girl I’ve never seen before.
“Leo, this is our reporter, Harper Leigh. Harper, this is Leo Donovan.”
I shake Leo’s hand. It feels rough. I assume it’s from playing the guitar so much. Brooke was right when she said Leo is sexy. He’s not quite as tall as Nic and Xander but he’s muscular. He’s also heavily tattooed. He’s got dark hair that almost looks like its dyed black and coal dark eyes to match.
“And this is Xander Donovan.”
Xander smiles and puts out a hand. I shake his as well. He is taller than his brother, even a little bit taller than Nic, but he’s not quite as built. His frame is more like a runner’s body. He’s got light brown hair and stunning hazel eyes that look almost more catlike than human.
“And this is Raven Woods,” Nic announces.
The girl looks about my age, mid-twenties, but that’s where any similarity ends. She’s model tall, rail thin and everything about her is dark. She’s got jet black hair that’s long and straight with deep, dark eyes. Raven is a fitting name for her.
Raven is looking at me like I’m a dead bird the cat just dragged into the house. Her nose is scrunched up and her face doesn’t hide her complete disgust for me.
“Raven, this is Harper. Our journalist.” Nic is frowning at Raven like he’s not pleased with her attitude. She gives him a look like she doesn’t care.
I extend a hand for her to shake but she just stares at it like it’s diseased.
“Raven sleeps with the band.”
I blink a few times and shake my head because I’m not sure I heard the words correctly. Did Nic just say that she sleeps with the band? Like all of them?
“I’m sorry. What was that?”
Nic gives me a smug little smile. I hate that smile even more than I hate the ones that his fans love so much. I actually want to slap it right off his smug face.
This time he speaks slowly and loudly like I’m a three-year-old. “Raven sleeps with the band.”
“All of you?” I squeak out before I have a chance to censor myself.
Raven just laughs like I’m a complete moron. Maybe I am. This—lifestyle—is all new to me.
“All of us,” Nic assures me.
“At the same time?” Now I’m sure I sound like a complete idiot. I’ve read about ménage but it’s not something I ever thought about happening in real life.
“Sometimes,” he states matter-of-factly.
Raven looks me up and down. “Whatever the guys want. I’m along for the ride.”
I can feel my face getting hot and I’m sure I’m turning completely red again. It’s already becoming a habit and we’re not even on the road yet. Where is that giant rock for me to crawl under when I need it?
“Okay, then,” I mutter. “Maybe I’d better get back to my bedroom.”
My roommate says that I have this weird half-walk half-run that I employ when I’m trying to hurry. It’s because I’m not really a runner at all. The only way I’d probably ever run is if someone was chasing me with a very large knife. Or maybe if I was being chased by a bear. Either one of those scenarios would probably cause me to run.
I can feel a hand grab my elbow and I freeze in my tracks.
When I spin around, I say, “Let go of me,” a lot louder than I anticipate.
But Nic doesn’t let me go. He stares down at me with his big brown eyes. I want to slap myself for even having the thought of them being sexy.
Now all I can think about is him having sex with Raven. All three of them having sex with Raven. And me being in the bedroom right next door. Oh, God. What am I doing here? I’m not sure I ever want horizons that broad.
“I said let go of me.”
He removes his hand from my arm and puts both of his hands up in a semi-defensive gesture. “Where are you going?”
“I wish I was going home.”
“Why?”
I actually let out a laugh. “Do you really have to ask that question?”
“Apparently,” he replies. I can tell that he’s not joking.
I heave a sigh. “Isn’t it obvious? I don’t belong here. This is so far from my world it would almost be comical if it wasn’t so pathetic.”
“Why?” he asks again.
“Why do you keep saying why?” I can hear the frustration building in my voice but part of me really doesn’t care. I have a feeling Nic knows he’s pushing my buttons and that he enjoys every minute of it.
“What was so awful about what Raven said that you feel like you have to run away?”
I’m not sure how to respond. I don’t want Nic to think I’m totally naïve, but in some ways I guess I am. “It’s just—I guess I’m not used to the idea of all of you sleeping with the same girl.”
He laughs. “We don’t do any sleeping. We do a lot of fucking but we definitely don’t sleep.”
I c
an feel my face getting hot again. I’m sure I’m already beet red.
Nic gets closer to me. So close I can feel the heat radiating from his body. And there’s a lot of heat. It’s so hot I feel like I could pass out. Or maybe my knees are getting weak. Actually I think it’s both.
“Is all this talk about fucking making you uncomfortable?”
“A little,” I manage to squeak out.
I want so badly for him to take a few steps back. His close proximity is doing strange things to my body. It’s like I’m getting all tingly and fluttery all at the same time. It makes me want to scream.
Or get naked and do exactly what he’s suggesting.
Where the hell did that thought come from? I try to erase it from my mind. I’m not promiscuous. I’m no Raven. I’m not even a Brooke. Oh, who am I kidding? Everything about me screams Good Girl. My picture is probably right there with the definition if you look up Good Girl in the dictionary.
“Maybe you need to do it a little more often so it doesn’t make you so uncomfortable.”
Now Nic’s looking at me like he wants to do exactly what he’s talking about doing. But I know he can’t actually want to have sex with someone like me. The very idea is ridiculous. He’s clearly just trying to push my buttons again. He seems to take great pleasure in getting a rise out of me.
“I do it plenty,” I fire back although the truth be told I haven’t actually done it in two months. Not since I broke up with Jackson. Or should I say Jackson broke up with me?
Nic eyes me suspiciously and I can tell he doesn’t believe me. “Have you ever even been fucked?”
I gulp. “I’m not sure this is something I want to discuss with you.”
“A hot, heavy mind-blowing fuck.”
I never thought about sex being mind-blowing before. Sex with Jackson was always sweet and tender. I would never describe it as hot or heavy though. Jackson was the type of guy who made love. He wasn’t the type of guy who—well—did the other thing.
“Have you ever even had sex?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Of course I’ve had sex. I had a boyfriend all through college.”
Nic gets close to my ear. So close I can feel his breath on my neck. It sends a wave of shivers through my body that’s so intense I feel faint.
“You may have had sex but I can tell that you’ve never been fucked. I think that’s your problem.”
“I don’t think it’s a problem.”
I can actually feel droplets of sweat running from my temples down the sides of my face. I need to get away from Nic as quickly as I can. I don’t like how I feel when I’m around him. Or maybe I do like it. A little too much. Either way is dangerous.
He stares at me as he takes a small step back. I get the feeling that he’s trying to look right through me. It’s unnerving. “Where is he?”
“Who?”
There’s that smug smile again. I’m usually the smartest person in the room wherever I go but when I’m with Nic, I feel like I’m playing a game of chess and he’s always two moves ahead of me.
“Your boyfriend.”
I frown. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
He laughs. “That’s what I thought.”
“I did have a boyfriend. For four years. All through college.”
“Where is he now?”
“Law school. On the East Coast. Harvard.”
I’m not sure why I feel the need to explain my past relationship to Nic. But I feel like he’s judging me.
“He didn’t take you with him when he left for Harvard?”
I shake my head.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” And it’s the truth. Maybe I was naïve to think that Jackson would be willing to do a long distance thing but he never even suggested it. And he never asked me to go with him either.
“I hate to break this news to you, but you were nothing more than a long-term lay.”
I can feel my eyes practically pop out of my head I’m so shocked. But then the shock just as quickly turns to anger. “What?” I mumble even though I heard exactly what he said.
“Long. Term. Lay,” he repeats. “You’re a smart girl. I’m sure you can figure out what the term means.”
“We were in a committed four-year relationship.”
“Maybe that’s what you thought. Maybe that’s even what he told you. Or maybe that’s what you assumed. I just know if the guy is gone then there wasn’t much of a relationship. Long-term lay.”
My chest tightens like all the air has been sucked out of my lungs. “But he said he loved me.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth I immediately regret them. I expect Nic to laugh. Or make some snarky remark, but to my surprise, he doesn’t.
“If he truly loved you. If he felt like you were his. If the two of you truly belonged to each other. He wouldn’t have left. Or he would have packed up all of your shit and taken you with him. It’s that simple.”
I feel like I’ve been slapped. “You don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t think you understand. If you were his, you wouldn’t be standing here talking to me right now You’d be living with him in a shitty law student apartment in Cambridge.”
Tears start streaming down my face but I make no effort to stop them. I feel kind of dead inside. Was I living a lie? For four years? Is it possible that I didn’t mean as much to Jackson as I thought I did? I have to admit that it hurt when he left and never asked me to go with him.
“Dude,” I hear Leo say as he strolls over to us. “You’ve got to deal with this shit.”
“What shit is that?” Nic asks.
Leo shakes his head. “I don’t know. Some creepy-as-shit reporter. Says he’s got some kind of scoop. Wants your statement.”
Nic points to me. “No, she’s got to deal with it. She’s our own personal journalist. She’s got the exclusive. She can deal with that shit.”
“Our own journalist,” Leo remarks. “It’s kind of like having our own personal Shakespeare.” He laughs at his own joke but no one else does.
Nic frowns. “Except that Shakespeare was a playwright not a reporter.”
“At least I knew he was a writer,” Leo fires back. “Give me some credit, Dude.”
Nic looks over at me. “Do you think you can handle this, Shakes?”
I try to discreetly wipe the stray tears from my cheeks. Not that anyone seems to care that I’ve been crying. “Is that really necessary?”
Nic feigns innocence. “Is what necessary?”
“That ridiculous nickname.”
He laughs. “You’ll have to blame Leo for that one. Or I could just call you Hippy Library Chick. Your call.”
“If those are my only options I’ll stick with Shakes.”
Nic nods. “I really like Shakes. It suits you.” He looks so self-satisfied it makes me want to scream. Then his expression changes and he looks more serious. “Are you sure you can handle the creepy-as-shit reporter?”
“I can handle it.” I assure him.
Four
I see the guy waiting in the lobby. He really is creepy-as-shit. Leo was not exaggerating.
He's at least twice my age, very round and rapidly losing his hair. He barely has enough left for a decent comb over.
And people say I don't know how to coordinate an outfit. This guy is wearing grey plaid pants with a white shirt and a lime green tie. Even I know that doesn't match.
He also has a photographer with him. The guy is holding his camera in a ready position like he's going to snap a photo of me.
As I exhale, I try to muster as much confidence as I possibly can. This is my chance to be a real journalist.
"I'm Harper Leigh," I say as I approach the man with my hand extended.
He looks me up and down before he takes my hand. "Is that your real name?"
I'm not sure whether to be angry or insulted. The guy just seems like a jerk. His hand is also cold and slimy from sweat. I try to tear my hand from his but he
doesn't let me go. He pulls me closer to him instead.
I can smell his body odor and the gallon of cologne he's wearing to cover the fact that he hasn't bathed in a while.
"I'm going to get all the dirt on Nic Rayne whether you like it or not."
I rip my hand from his and pull away from him. I want to wipe my hand on something but I don't want his disgusting sweat on my clothes.
"I have the rights to an exclusive story on Mr. Rayne and his band."
"Mr. Rayne," he sneers. "Is that what you call him when you're fucking him?"
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. The only way that guy is giving you an exclusive story is if you're giving him something in return."
"I don't even think I need to dignify those remarks with a response. Now please leave."
He laughs. "Last time I checked this is a free country. I have just as much right to stand in this lobby as you do."
He turns to his photographer. "Get a shot of her. Nic Rayne's flavor of the week."
"That's not true. You can’t publish that."
“I can publish whatever I want. It doesn't have to be true. It just has to sell advertising. If you don't like it, get a lawyer and sue me. I'll get even more publicity."
"You're disgusting. You give journalism a bad name."
"Tell me something I don't know. I'm just here to make a buck."
"You don't have any integrity at all."
He nods. "Lost it years ago and never missed it. You're still young but I'm sure you'll lose it too. And the moment you realize it's gone, I'll bet you'll remember this conversation."
He turns toward his photographer. "Let's get something to eat, Joe." Then he turns back to me. "See you around, Kid."
And with that, both men turn and walk away.
***
Even though I’m in a special VIP area it still feels weird being at the concert alone. Okay, so I’m not completely alone. I’ve got Raven and Brad on either side of me. But I still feel like I’m alone because I don’t know either one of them all that well and I’m not sure either one of them likes me very much.
Maybe Brad does. It’s hard to tell. He seems like the kind of guy who is nice to everyone. But you never really know if he’s just being nice because he’s supposed to be or because he wants to be.
Always Rayne (The ALWAYS SOMETIMES NEVER Rock Star Romance Series) Page 4