Anything You Need (Cataclysm Book 1)

by Jerica MacMillan

  Contents

  Anything You Need

  Join My Book Club!

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  Acknowledgements

  Book Club

  About Jerica MacMillan

  Other Titles on Amazon

  Anything You Need

  Cataclysm Book 1

  Jerica MacMillan

  Copyright © 2018 by Jerica MacMillan

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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  Chapter One

  Marcus

  “I’ve been thinking.”

  Kendra’s voice draws my attention to where she sits next to me in a low-cut, curve-hugging blue gown that makes it hard for me to not stare at her tits. Especially since she has her arms propped on the table close together, one hand idly twisting her glass of scotch. Everyone assumes I got her started drinking the stuff. Truth is, it was the other way around.

  I take a sip of my own scotch, raising my brows at her. “Do tell.”

  She glances around at the wedding reception in the ballroom at the resort in Montecito. Circular tables draped in white surround us, and the bride and groom are making their way through the room, stopping at each table to say hello. Though most of the guests are on the dance floor right now.

  Kendra nods her head at Jonathan and Gabby. “You know, she’s a lot sweeter than I thought she’d be.”

  I cast a glance over my shoulder to see her and Jonathan talking to someone I don’t recognize. “She’s one of the nicest people I know. You’d never guess that she’s crazy talented, either. She has no ego to speak of.”

  My band, Cataclysm, got on the guest list because we’re working with Gabby on our new album. She’s been writing and performing for the past year or so with Jonathan, better known as Jonny B, the former boyband heartthrob who made a comeback as a solo artist years later.

  Leaning forward, I nudge her arm. “You’re dodging my question. What have you been thinking about? I always get nervous when you throw out that kind of comment and then refuse to fill me in.”

  “Well …” Kendra draws out, her dark blue eyes glowing with suppressed laughter when they return to mine. “Since I did you such a big favor coming as your plus one, I thought of a way you could pay me back.”

  I let out a guffaw, setting my drink back on the table so I don’t accidentally spill it. “You did me a favor? I seem to remember you pulling the best friend card and practically begging to come when you found out I was invited.”

  She gives me a fake pout, then straightens and waves away my comment. “To-may-to, to-mah-to.”

  “Let’s call the whole thing off?” I put in before she can continue.

  She levels a glare at me. “If you’ll stop interrupting, I’ll tell you how you can pay me back for saving you from handsy starlets and non-famous friends that always end up at these things.” She leans in closer. “Need I remind you about the chick who cornered you at that charity dinner and said that you were her free pass?”

  I grimace at the memory. That was the last event I attended stag, and that was the biggest reason why. It wasn’t the first time an overly ambitious female had tried to proposition me. As the lead singer of one of the hottest alt-rock bands right now, it kind of comes with the territory. Groupies at concerts, aggressive women elsewhere, crazed fans everywhere.

  In the early days, I accepted my fair share of offers, sleeping with the ones I liked the look of. That all stopped when my bandmate Aaron pointed out that I only hooked up with women who looked like Kendra.

  That was enough to make the constant stream of meaningless sex lose its appeal.

  Because Kendra has been my best friend since tenth grade, when we were both huddling under the eves of our high school in a driving rainstorm waiting for our respective rides after the rehearsal for the annual musical ended. She had on a tiny midriff-baring T-shirt and stood shivering against the wall, her flute case clutched in her tightly crossed arms. Ever the gentleman, I offered her my jacket. Except she wouldn’t take it, since then I’d be cold, and instead stepped in close and asked me to wrap the open flaps—and my arms—around her.

  I’d thought she was gorgeous with her tawny hair, pale skin, and dark blue eyes. When she sought me out the next day, sitting with me at lunch, and again the day after, at first I thought maybe she had a thing for me.

  It turned out she had a boyfriend. Of course she did. A football player, no less, and a junior. Since he was older, he didn’t have lunch at the same time, so she started sitting with me.

  Our friendship held through the rest of high school and her endless string of boyfriends. My many girlfriends, too, if we’re keeping track. We went to separate colleges, but remained close, which was not too difficult since we both stayed in Boston, me at Berklee School of Music on scholarship, and her at Harvard.

  Even when Cataclysm made it big partway through my junior year, we remained unshakeable. Through touring, recording, her demanding class schedule, we’ve always stayed in touch, at least texting every few days to check in.

  She graduated last spring with a business degree. I still think her father pushed her into that choice, though she’s always claimed it was her idea. But Kendra loves music, always has, it was one of the things that drew us together. She says she lacks the talent to make a career of it, but who cares? Her trust fund means she never has to work if she doesn’t want to, so why not study something she loves just for fun? At least now that she’s graduated, she’s more available to come with me when I need a plus one, which she’s all too happy to do for a chance to rub elbows with the biggest musical acts around right now.

  Not that she acts like a crazed fangirl. Her family is New England old money, and her dad runs a venture capitalist firm. She was the girl born with the silver spoon, while I was the son of w
orking-class people, my dad starting at the brewery after he graduated high school and working his way up to production manager, making the friendship between the band geek and the debutante even more unlikely. But despite her background, Kendra has always been one of the kindest, sweetest people I know. She gets me better than anyone and has never thought my obsession with music was weird or stupid.

  I take another sip of my drink. “Oh? And how is it you’d like me to pay you back?”

  She looks down, running the tip of her finger around the rim of her glass. Clearing her throat, she glances at me through her eyelashes. “My parents are having their thirty-fifth anniversary party in a few weeks. I was hoping you’d go with me.”

  “Yeah, sure. I’m always happy to go with you if you need.”

  She looks at me and clears her throat again, shifting in her seat. Which is weird. Kendra’s family maybe didn’t always love how much time we spent together, but she’s never acted this way about inviting me to something before.

  “Hey.” I lean toward her, lowering my voice. “What’s up? It’s not a big deal. Seriously.”

  She meets my eyes. “The thing is, I need you to be there as my date, not just a friend.” Sighing, she looks away. “Remember how I told you I was dating Mitchell Cunningham? My dad’s business partner’s son?”

  “You broke up with him, right? A few months ago.”

  “Right. We weren’t a good fit. I gave it a try because my parents really wanted me to date him, and I wasn’t dating anyone else, so I figured I might as well let him take me to dinner. You know how it is with my parents. Seemed like the easiest way to get them off my back.”

  I nod, taking a drink. Her relationship with her family has always bothered me. Her parents have definite ideas about how they think she should act and what she should do—which is why I was never their favorite person. I’ve never fit in with their social set. Kendra tries her best to please her parents, even though most of the time the things they want her to do don’t line up with the things she wants for herself. Like dating this Mitchell guy, for example.

  “We went out a few times, and suddenly we were a couple. We were getting invited everywhere together, and our parents were acting like we were practically engaged. Then someone said something about rings, and that was it. I couldn’t do it anymore. He’s nice enough when he wants to be, but he’s … blah.” She makes a face, sticking her tongue out and shuddering, which makes me smile.

  “I mean, he’s decent looking, and maybe someone else would be happy to put up with the droning on and on about money and business and networking and golf. God, the endless talk of golf.” She rolls her eyes. “But I couldn’t. I thought we were just dating. Apparently everyone else was planning our wedding, and I didn’t even realize it.” She takes a deep breath and holds it in for a second while she looks at me, and then lets it out in a whoosh.

  “Anyway. I need someone to come with me. As a date. A shield. Because Mitchell’s going to be there, and my mother assures me that he’s going to try to win me back. I don’t want to be won back. I wasn’t won over in the first place.”

  I take another sip of my drink, looking her over, waiting to see if she’s done. As I swallow, I set my glass back on the table. “Why not tell everyone that?”

  One slim, perfect shoulder lifts, and she slumps in her chair. “It’s not that easy.”

  I hate the dejected tilt to her shoulders. And even though I wish she’d stand up for herself more where her family is concerned, she already knows how I feel about that. She’s asking me for help, not a lecture.

  So I crack a grin, stretching my hands up and behind my head, flexing my biceps, even though they’re hidden by my jacket, and let out a self-satisfied sound. “So you came to your super hot rockstar friend for help. Good choice.”

  When I bring my arms back down, she latches onto the one closest to her with both hands, her eyes wide. “Oh my God! You’re right! That makes it so much better.”

  I let out a chuckle, glad that the dejection is gone, replaced with excitement. “You’re so good for my ego, Ken.” Because she’s not joking right now. She really forgets that I’ve made it, that I’m the lead singer for one of the hottest bands on the planet. To her I’ll always be the nerdy band kid who wrapped her in his jacket while we waited in the rain.

  She flips a hand at me. “Come on. We both know your ego can take the hit. You have people screaming how much they love you on a regular basis. Like weekly. Sometimes multiple times a week. And don’t even get me started on the fan mail.” She rolls her eyes. “The naked selfies. The propositions to have everyone’s baby. And that was just one girl!”

  I grin, a genuine smile this time, not the affected one I pulled out to break her out of her funk. “Aww, what’s wrong, Ken? You jealous?”

  She laughs. “Please. Jealous of what? You looking at random women? Like I don’t know you do that all the time anyway.” She leans in close and lowers her voice. “I know what porn is, Marcus. And since you’re a healthy man in his sexual prime, I’m sure you’ve watched your fair share.”

  It’s a good thing I’m not drinking anything, because I’d spray it all over the table. As it is I choke on my own spit. “You think about me watching porn?”

  She waves the question away with an impish grin. Then her face turns softer, imploring. “You’ll do it, though? You’ll come with me to the anniversary party?”

  I reach out and hook my arm around her, pulling her close. “Of course, Ken. You know I’ll always help you however I can. All you have to do is ask.”

  Chapter Two

  Kendra

  I tap my fingers against my thigh as Marcus drives us to the swanky hotel in the Berkshires where my parents are hosting their anniversary party the first weekend in January.

  Marcus’s hand reaches over and stills my fingers. “Ken, you’re driving me nuts over here. Settle down already.” He glances at me out of the corner of his eye as he pulls his hand back and brushes a lock of dark hair off his forehead before returning his hand to the steering wheel. “What’s the big deal? It’s not like I’m meeting your parents for the first time.”

  I give the passing countryside a guilty look. Because I haven’t told him everything. Most of it. But not all of it.

  With a deep breath, I steel myself, close my eyes, and spit it out. “The thing is … I might have implied, to my mom, that we’re … dating.”

  Peeking out of one eye, I see him giving me a quick look, his handsome face unchanged with its two-day beard and dark hair that always looks like it’s about a week past needing a trim. He’s a long way from the gawky kid I became friends with in high school. Now he’s downright hot.

  I can usually ignore that fact. But not with the reality of what I’m asking him to do this weekend looming over us.

  And he still doesn’t seem to get it. Which is made clear when he says, “Well, yeah. You said that I was coming as your date.”

  I let out a groan, slumping back against the seat. “Don’t be deliberately obtuse. I mean that I told my mom that we’re dating. A couple. That we’ve been seeing each other, romantically, for quite a while. She thinks that you’re the reason that I wouldn’t take things seriously with Mitchell.”

  He lets out a snort. “The guy’s named Mitchell. How could you take him seriously? Did he ask you to call him Mitch? Mitchy? What was your pet name for him?”

  Rolling my eyes, I try to suppress my smile. “No. It was always Mitchell.”

  His face now shows horror when he glances at me. “What? Even in bed?”

  I groan again. “Can we not talk about anything to do with Mitchell and bed?”

  “That bad, huh?”

  Crossing my legs, I press my lips together primly, refusing to say a word. But the truth is, yes. I mean it wasn’t bad bad. It just wasn’t ever … good. He never seemed interested in my pleasure, never really made an attempt at foreplay. After the first few times of trying to get him to touch me where and how I liked before r
acing for the finish line, I gave up. I faked a few orgasms, but when I experimented with not bothering, it didn’t make a difference. Selfish ass.

  “Anyway,” I say firmly, dragging the conversation back to the important topic at hand, “we’re sharing a room this weekend. Because my mom thinks we’re a couple.”

  “Because you told her we’re a couple.”

  I wince at the censure in his voice. “Are you mad?”

  He gives me a long look, those fathomless dark eyes memorizing me, then chuckles and shakes his head. “I told you before, I’ll do whatever you need. You need me to be your fake boyfriend for the weekend? I’m your man. That’s what friends are for, right? I tell overly-enthusiastic female fans that you’re my girlfriend when you come with me to stuff.” He gives a careless shrug. “So now it’s my turn. No big deal.”

  Sighing, I’m mostly relieved, but still a little worried. “Yeah, true. But when I come with you, we don’t usually share a hotel room. Or if we do, it’s a two bedroom suite.”

  His eyebrows raise. “So we’re not sharing a suite?”

  I cover my face. “My mom told me she booked us in one of the other honeymoon suites.” I wave my hands around. “It comes with a big jacuzzi tub and complimentary champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries, and she gushed about how romantic it was.”

  Marcus chuckles again. “Chill, Kendra. Seriously. I’ll sleep on the couch. Or we can share the bed. I brought lounge pants. I’ll wear those to bed. You can wear PJs. It’s not like we haven’t slept in the same bed before.”

  That reminder and his accompanying glance has my cheeks turning pink, and I turn my face to the window to hide my blush. “Yeah, true.” Once. When I came to watch his band perform at some dive bar. By the time their set was over, it was late, and I was drunk. Marcus took me back to his dorm room, and we slept snuggled together on his twin bed.