Finding Rhythm (Rogue Rockstar Series Book 4)

by Lara Ward Cosio

  “I don’t want to bother you. I’ll just go—”

  “Please don’t. No one else will be up for hours. It really would be nice to have a grownup to talk to. I’m Sophie.” She gestured to herself.

  “I know. I’m Lainey.”

  “I know,” Sophie said gently.

  Lainey hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Okay. Tea sounds great.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  When Martin woke alone in bed, he assumed Lainey had found her way home. He fought off his disappointment and instead stretched and let his mind wander to their unexpected evening together.

  They had no plan when they left the party. Neither had a car, so they just walked without purpose or direction. With the event being in the middle of the popular destination known as Hollywood & Highland, they were in the heart of Hollywood and surrounded by tourists and the street hustlers trying to make a quick buck off them with promises of exclusive maps to the stars’ homes or private sightseeing tours. They dodged people hocking restaurant menus, as well as people dressed in full costume—be it Spiderman, SpongeBob, Minnie Mouse, Kylo Ren, Marilyn Monroe, or Batman—looking for tips in exchange for posing for a photo.

  “Should I be looking for your name here?” Martin asked as they stepped over the stars with celebrity names embedded in the pavement.

  “No, mine is the other direction,” she said.

  He wouldn’t realize until later that she wasn’t kidding.

  “Oh my god,” a woman with a painful sunburn and stringy brown hair said, stopping in her tracks in front of them. “They even have a Lainey Keeler imitator!” she told her similarly lobster-hued friend.

  “But where’s your superhero costume?” the friend asked, less than impressed.

  Martin had no idea what the women were talking about, but he could see Lainey physically recoil from the recognition. His protective instincts kicked in.

  “See, sweetie? Amn’t I always saying you could pass as the twin of that actress?” he asked, playing up his Irish accent as he put his arm around Lainey.

  It only took her a fraction of a second to catch on to his rouse. “Oh, aye,” she said with an impeccable Irish brogue, “but I still don’t see it.”

  The foreign accents threw the tourists, and they stood there, mouths agape for a moment as they tried to sort out where they had gone wrong with their celebrity sighting.

  Finally, the first tourist grudgingly said, “I suppose it’s not all that great of a likeness after all. She’s missing Lainey’s spark. You know that thing that us normal girls just don’t have, right?” She nudged Lainey and laughed heartily.

  Lainey leaned into Martin in response, shying away from the unsolicited contact by the stranger. The weight of her slight frame against him felt good. So did the sense that she trusted him.

  “We’d better be going,” Martin said. “I think I saw Lara Croft back that way. Hurry or you’ll miss her.” He was grateful for his videogame experience, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to come up with a celebrity name.

  The tourists thanked them and scurried away.

  “Well, that was interesting,” he said with a laugh.

  Lainey took a step away from him and nodded. “Thank you—”

  “No worries,” he said quickly. There was no need to extend her discomfort, and he liked being in a position to help her. Celia had always been independent, leading the way for them as a couple. It was rare that he got to feel like he was needed. “That was a lovely accent, so it was. Have you been to Ireland?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Very impressive indeed. How did you come by it?”

  She smiled and cocked a thumb at herself. “Actor, remember?”

  Martin watched her for a moment, taking her in with fresh eyes. Though she was beautiful, he still didn’t recognize her from anything, and he couldn’t stop from telling her as much.

  The revelation delighted her. Her whole body relaxed and she beamed.

  “Now,” he said as he looked around, “you must know this area better than me. Where shall we go?”

  Looking up to orient herself, Lainey fixed her gaze on the building across the street. “Let’s test you to see how bad that Hollywood I.Q. really is.”

  Before he could ask what that meant, she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the crowd filling the crosswalk. She led him to the entrance of the Hollywood Wax Museum, quickly paid their way, and they were soon immersed in tacky replicas of celebrities.

  Martin was speechless as they passed through the exhibits. Most of the figures formed terrible likenesses, including the ones for Johnny Depp and Orlando Bloom—both of whom were inexplicably dressed in regular clothes and reading scripts from atop a pirate ship. The versions of Hugh Jackman, Robert DeNiro, Ben Affleck, and Matt Damon were almost unrecognizable. It seemed the women were even harder for the wax artists to handle since Sandra Bullock, Meryl Streep, Halle Berry, and Julia Roberts looked more like generic department store mannequins than the stars they were supposed to be.

  “You can’t blame me for not knowing those actors!” Martin said. “It’s obscene how badly they’re done.”

  Lainey agreed and they continued on, laughing their way through the “Chamber of Horrors” where exhibits of scary film characters were featured while cheesy groans, growls, howls, and organ music was piped in to add ambiance to the darkened space.

  “Ah, I recognize that one,” Martin said, stopping at one of the displays.

  “And? Who is he?” Lainey asked.

  “Hannibal Lector.”

  She laughed. “I love how proud you are of yourself. But what’s the actor’s name?”

  He thought for a moment. “Fuck if I know!” he finally said with a laugh.

  She watched him with amazement and he realized he was probably an unknown entity to her, especially in this town where everything revolved around who you were. He was showing her an intriguing freedom from that.

  “It’s Anthony Hopkins,” she told him. “Let’s see if you can figure out any more.”

  The few other figures Martin recognized were either music-related or some of the rare ones that were well made, including Katy Perry, Taylor Swift, Justin Beiber, Harrison Ford, and Jack Black—in full Nacho Libre regalia. But an offensively bad Elvis stopped Martin in his tracks.

  “Oh, the sacrilege,” he moaned. “This is pure rubbish. In fact, I think this place must be shut down. Who do I register the complaint with?”

  Lainey laughed. “I think you’ve seen enough. I don’t want to traumatize you.”

  “Yes, let’s be done with this.” He took her hand, a gesture that came so naturally he didn’t even think about it—or the fact that she didn’t hesitate to hold his hand back. Neither had been looking for the other that evening and so there were no expectations. It made their natural connection all the more comfortable. It was nice to get on so well with someone.

  Once out on the street again, they found there were even more tourists milling about. It was midnight but both hesitated to part.

  “So, you had one great idea,” he said with a nod to the Museum. She laughed. “No, really, that was fun. What else might we do?”

  She thought for a moment. “We could see what’s happening at the Sayers Club. It’s not far from here.”

  “Dance club, is it?”

  “Could be. They have a DJ usually, sometimes a live band.”

  “Sounds brilliant. Let’s do it.”

  They walked down Hollywood Boulevard, still holding hands and dodging others on the street. After five long blocks, they ducked down Wilcox Avenue toward a pale stone building with a distinctive partial cast iron frontispiece. A crowd was lined up on the short red carpet at the main entrance.

  “Go ahead,” Lainey said. “Do your rock star thing and get us in.” She was teasing him, but he also saw it as a minor test to see what kind of attention and deference he could command.

  He wanted to tell her he wasn’t the rock star she migh
t think he was, rather that he had for years been a simple family man who happened to play bass for the biggest band in the world. But, he realized with some surprise that he didn’t exactly feel that way anymore. He had finally, belatedly, come to understand what he had been a part of—what he had helped to create with Rogue. There were more songs in Rogue’s catalogue that he had been a driving influence on than he gave himself credit for, and he was done taking a back seat on both his contributions and his importance.

  Taking her hand, he led them to the front of the line, ignoring the complaints of those waiting.

  “Aye, pal, what do you say you let us by?” he asked the tall, imposing bouncer. “I’m just here in L.A. as a part of Rogue’s appearance at the VMAs and would love to see what acts you’ve got on tonight.”

  The bouncer, an Hispanic man with a barrel chest and slicked back hair, eyed him for only a moment before stepping aside and letting them in.

  “Enjoy your evening, Mr. Whelan,” the man said.

  “Nicely done, Mr. Whelan!” Lainey said with a laugh as they bypassed the small main room and went into the back where a hostess showed them to the last available brown leather sofa. They settled in with four hundred dollar bottle service and watched as rapper T.I. finished his performance.

  The small club was simple and comfortable, with sofas resting atop an Oriental rug. The brick-walled bar was elegantly spot lit by large glass-domed fixtures. Oversized portraits of Samuel Beckett and Queen Elizabeth stared out at them from either side of the small stage. Rapper T.I. didn’t need much space to command the room, which was full to capacity, including those that didn’t want to pay the pricey cost of having a sofa and were therefore left standing. They were served the bottle of Perrier-Jouet Belle Epoque champagne they ordered as T.I. was saying his thanks and being surrounded by the crowd, leaving them a measure of peace.

  “What should we toast to?” Lainey asked.

  Martin thought a moment. He realized for the first time that they had unwittingly been on a date. Holding up his glass, he said, “To happy accidents, Lainey.”

  She touched her glass to his, a smile playing at her lips.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  They had stayed at the club only long enough to finish the bottle of champagne, during which time they chatted superficially while gravitating closer together physically.

  “Listen,” Martin told her, “I really enjoy your company.”

  She smiled. “Me too.”

  He touched her cheek, gently dragging his fingers over her jawline. Leaning in to kiss her, he saw she was receptive. Her lips were parted slightly and her half-closed eyes were focused on his mouth. He stopped and pulled away.

  “You should know,” he said, “I’m a terrible catch. I’m technically married and have three boys I adore more than life. I live in Ireland. I’ve had one scandal after another. You and I have probably made another tonight.”

  She watched him for a moment. “Thanks for laying all that out. But I already knew it.”

  Jesus, was that his heart that just fluttered? He grinned at her complete acceptance of things. Then he leaned in and kissed her slowly, and they found a natural rhythm that was sweet and satisfying. Their mouths met with equal pressure and urgency, unlike his other experiences. Celia always made him feel like she was pulling away. Ashley made him feel like she was trying to devour him. He didn’t count any others. Instead, he slipped his fingers into the thick hair at the nape of her neck and surrendered to the moment.

  Until she pulled away. She looked at him. “You should know,” she said, “I’m a terrible catch. I’m not married and have no kids because I’m still trying to recover from my own childhood. I live most of the time in Santa Barbara. I’ve been trying very hard not to be the center of any scandals, to leave that in the past.”

  “Then I’m sorry for what’s to come from us being out together,” he said.

  “Maybe I’ll change my mind,” she said, “but right now, I don’t care what happens. I just want to kiss you.”

  There it was again. The flutter in his chest. Yes, she definitely had an effect on him. They traded tender kisses until the heat of desire raised the intensity of their connection. All too soon, the house lights turned on, signaling that closing time was upon them.

  “I’m not presuming anything,” he told her, “but would you come back with me to the place I’m staying? I want to spend more time with you.”

  Lainey smiled and he could see she was going to say no. Then she focused on the fact that they were surrounded by people who had probably taken photos and videos of them during their very public display of affection, and she thought better of it. “Well, since the odds are that my house is being staked out by TMZ, maybe your place would be better.”

  “Grand. I’ll get us a car.”

  The house was dark when they got there and he took her straight to his room where they lay on the bed and resumed the kissing that had gotten them heated in the car on the way over. As much as he wanted her, he didn’t try to do anything more than kiss. It seemed like a good idea to move slowly.

  In between kisses, she asked him about his life. He told her with brutal honesty how he was searching for something he hadn’t known he needed until recently. He told her another woman had been part of instigating this journey and that he regretted that he had hurt his wife in the process. He told her that he felt tremendous guilt for not having any desire to try to save his marriage. He told her he was anxious to get back to Dublin in two weeks time so that he could see his boys.

  In return, she told him an abbreviated history of her acting career and how it had stolen her relationship with her mother. She told him she had been so confused by what her value was beyond bringing in paychecks that she acted out for attention. She told him she thought she was on the path to normalcy when she was in college, but her desire to tell stories as an actor had led her back to this life. She told him she wasn’t sure she would survive another round in this industry.

  It was remarkably easy to trade these confessions, likely because of an underlying understanding that all they had together was this night. There were no expectations of anything more. And so they listened to each other with generosity and empathy until she buried her head into his chest and fell asleep.

  Martin had expected he would wake to find her still in his arms, but that wasn’t the case. It was almost noon. That was a decent amount of sleep, but he felt drained. Drained by the way he had shared of himself, and the way he had taken on Lainey’s burdens in return. And yet, he also felt light. There had been freedom in that encounter. He didn’t want to ruin that feeling by checking his phone. There were bound to be presumptuous tabloid stories out there already.

  But he did want to try to speak with his boys, so he ignored all the notifications on his phone and quickly dialed Donal’s number. The kid always had that phone in his possession, so Martin wasn’t surprised by the immediate answer.

  “Da! Is it almost time for us to come home? Ma keeps saying not yet, but it’s been forever and we want to see you,” Donal said in a rush.

  Martin’s heart swelled. “Soon, my lad. It’ll be soon.”

  He was able to speak with Colm and Sean as well, and hearing their voices lifted his spirits. After a quick shower, he dressed in swim trunks and skipped putting on a shirt. All he wanted to do that day was lie around by the pool and relive his time with Lainey.

  All the activity of the house was in the backyard. It seemed everyone else had the same idea he did, which wasn’t surprising. It was another bright, warm day in Los Angeles. Grabbing a cup of coffee, Martin took it with him outside.

  Sophie was in the shallow end of the pool, cooing over Daisy who was in some sort of floating device. Gavin and Conor were sitting on the lounge furniture, each with an acoustic guitar as they worked on some new piece. Shay and Jessica were sitting poolside together with their backs to him as they spoke to someone, likely Felicity. All that was missing from this lovely scene was his boys. They
would love the pool. Maybe he’d take them away on another holiday once he got his visitation.

  “Good morning,” Sophie called to him.

  “Morning,” he replied with a wave of his mug.

  Shay turned and in doing so let him see who he had been talking with. It wasn’t Felicity.

  Lainey smiled shyly at him and he was both confused and delighted to see her. He quickened his pace to get to her.

  “You’re still here,” he said. His smile was so broad that his cheeks ached. “I thought you’d gone.”

  “We adopted her,” Sophie called out.

  Lainey laughed. “She sort of did, actually,” she replied as she stood. She wore a bikini that must have been borrowed from one of the other women, and it was a striking way to see her again.

  Martin couldn’t have stopped himself if he wanted to from hungrily taking in the sight of her. They had felt so intimate the night before, but they hadn’t done anything more than kiss and talk. Seeing her gorgeous figure now was like finding another piece of the puzzle they had begun together. It fit perfectly.

  “I’m only delighted,” he said with a laugh. This wasn’t what he expected at all, but it was wonderful. “Oh, em, hi Jessica.”

  Jessica laughed. It was obvious enough what had caused his delay in acknowledging her. She didn’t mind.

  “It’s probably good you came when you did,” Jessica said. “I was being a total fangirl and bugging Lainey about her movies.”

  “No, you weren’t. It’s totally fine,” Lainey said. “I want to hear all about your school—and your time at San Francisco Ballet Company.”

  “We’ll definitely talk more. But for now, Shay and I will let you two have a minute.”

  Jessica and Shay stood. Shay caught Martin’s eye as he started to go and gave him a barely perceptible nod of approval. Of course he was happy to see him with a woman after that disastrous gay bar episode. Though it had happened only days ago, it felt like a lifetime had passed. His foray into exploring those impulses had been something he’d done on a whim, eager to find out what he really wanted after so many years of complacency. But the question had been answered just as quickly. He wasn’t gay or bisexual. As was evident by the unbridled attraction he felt now that he had a barely clothed Lainey in front of him.