Racing to Rhapsody: A Rhapsody Novel

by Selena Laurence

  “How bad does it make me look?”

  “It’s not a huge thing, especially since the police aren’t pressing charges.”

  “The police? Fuck!” he groans, jumping up again and pacing the room.

  “It’s okay. Shannon talked to them this morning I guess. There are eyewitnesses who said you were just trying to get her off of your lap.”

  “Jesus,” he mutters. “What a damn mess. I was trying to do the right thing for once,” he continues softly, almost as if he’s talking to himself.

  Then he shakes himself out of whatever dark thoughts he’s entertaining and asks, “What was the more bad news?”

  I sigh. “Blaze called last night—you remember Kevin, Tully’s brother-in-law?”

  “Yeah, sure, man. Nice guy. Owns that cool little pub.”

  I nod. “Last night while he and Savannah were the only ones there near closing time, some bikers manhandled Savvy. Kevin tried to intervene, asked them to leave, offered to give them their drinks on the house, but they came after him and when he defended himself one of them pulled out a gun and—” I have to swallow now. Every time I say it the image runs through my mind like a movie reel, “—the dude killed him. Shot him in the face right in front of Savvy.”

  Garrett collapses onto the sofa, a look of complete devastation on his face. “Did they… I mean, Savvy…is she…”

  I know immediately what he’s asking. Of course she’s not okay, but the bastards didn’t rape her and it’s the one and only goddamn good thing in the whole mess. “They didn’t,” I tell him, my voice rough with emotion. “They freaked and left.”

  He nods, and I hear a whoosh of relief leave his chest. “Okay. Okay. Their little boy?”

  “He was at the grandma’s house like he usually is when they both close up the bar.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Yeah.” I wait for him to add something else, but he’s deep in his own thoughts. “Blaze will let me know what the schedule is for the funeral and Carson or Topher can come up to take my spot.” I’m the only one besides Blaze who really knows Tully and her sister well, so I can’t imagine that the rest of the guys will feel the need to go to the funeral.

  “I want to go,” he says sharply, standing and walking to look out the windows.

  “To the funeral?” My brow furrows. Garrett is a good time guy, I have a hard time imagining him going to a funeral even if it was for a close family member, much less someone he only met a couple of times.

  “Yeah. I want to be there, and I think it’s good timing anyway.” He pauses. “For other reasons.” He’s not telling me the whole story again, and it’s so unlike him I know I’m not going to be able to let it go after all.

  We’re both silent for a few moments until I finally ask. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “What do you mean?” he says, not turning to face me.

  “Come on, man. You’ve been screwing every groupie who asks for years now. All of a sudden in the last forty-eight hours you don’t want anyone touching you, and you get so aggressive in rejecting a woman that it ends up in the press. Now you’re determined to go to a funeral for someone you barely knew. Something happened, Garrett. What is it?”

  He leans his head against the window briefly before turning around, his face a study in misery.

  “It’s like I’m high,” he tells me.

  I squint at him, not following along.

  “When I’m fucking them,” he continues. “It’s like I’m high. I get this rush, man, it’s—” he clears his throat, “—it’s really powerful, like a high. And I feel so fucking good. Like I can conquer the damn world. That’s why I always try to get off before we go on stage, I feel great and I can go out there and kill it. But lately…” He trails off.

  “Lately?”

  “Lately it’s been harder and harder to get the high, you know? And it goes away so fast, and I’ve started feeling like hell afterwards. These women, man, I don’t know their names, I don’t care who they are, or what they’re like, and I’m a fucking asshole for that, but I need them—their bodies—I need that, or I can’t handle my shit.”

  Jesus. I’ve spent most of the last two years helping Blaze fight his drug addiction, I know what an addict sounds like, I know what an addiction looks like.

  “What do you think is going on?” I ask him carefully.

  He looks me in the eyes then, and his green ones are full of fear and desperation. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy, much less one of my boys.

  “I think I have a problem, Dez.” His voice cracks. “I can’t stop.”

  His eyes well up, and he bites his lip before turning away from me. He slams a hand into the wall of the hotel, rattling the windows. “Fuck!” he yells, a cry to the cosmos and the struggle he knows is coming.

  “I think you’re right,” I answer. “And I think you need to get some help.”

  He nods. Head down, hand covering his face.

  I stand and go to him, laying a hand on his back lightly. “It’s going to be okay, dude. I’ve got your back—we all do, you know that. You’re doing the right thing. Admitting it is half the battle.”

  He nods again. “I need to go home. Get into a place, do rehab or something. They have rehab for this, right?”

  “Yeah, they have rehab for everything these days.”

  He laughs, short and bitter, then sighs. “Okay. Yeah. That’s what I need to do. But I need to go to the funeral. I can’t check in until after that.”

  I don’t fully understand why he’s so insistent on attending this funeral, but he’s admitted he has a problem, and he’s asking for help, so I guess it can’t hurt to let him have that last thing before he gets locked up for a few weeks.

  “Okay, I’ll tell everyone that. Why don’t you get ready now. We need to go to the venue soon.”

  “Okay. Okay.” He spins and grabs me hard for just a moment. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

  “Any time.”

  He strides to the bedroom and I sink onto the sofa trying to calculate how to tell Shannon that her day has just gotten worse than it already was.

  Shannon

  I’ve been up since four a.m., images of Dez and I having sex interspersed with gunfire and Savvy’s pretty face covered in blood. It was one horrible dream after another. After waking up and falling back asleep several times I finally gave up. But even awake I’m struggling to focus. All I can think of is how Dez felt when he groaned into my shoulder as I came around his hand. The scent of his hot skin, the way his hand wrapped around my throat, never squeezing, but controlling me, controlling my body the way his words controlled my mind.

  I shake my head and try to focus on the list in front of me. I’m sitting in a coffee shop a block from the convention center where the festival is happening. I’ve been reading through this list of potential clients for thirty minutes or more, and the names are swimming in front of my exhausted eyes. I haven’t called my dad yet to tell him about Garrett’s mess. I’m sure his terribly efficient secretary has already given him the screenshots from the gossip sites, but he often doesn’t read those until the end of the day, and judging by the fact that I haven’t had a ranting phone call from him yet, that’s what’s happening today.

  So, I need to head him off before he reads the news on his own, and if I could lead with an update about a potential new client it would really help soften the blow. Dad loves nothing more than acquiring important new clients.

  I scroll through the list again, trying to think of an angle for one of the names—someone I know who is related, a former lover, an assistant, anything that could get me in contact with one of these big names.

  But nothing comes to me, and then my phone is ringing, blasting me out of my half-conscious search.

  I flip it over and look at the screen to see Dez’s name. Dammit. I can’t avoid him forever.

  “Yeah?” I answer, putting on my coldest, most business-like voice.

 
“Hi,” he says, and even though it’s one word, I feel it roll through me like a wave. A hot, thick wave.

  I have to take a breath, because his voice pretty much knocks the air right out of me.

  “Are you on your way?” I ask curtly.

  “We’re in the car,” he answers. “But we need to talk before we start the signing.”

  I squeeze my eyes closed, wishing like hell there was another way to do this. But I remind myself that my father’s company is on the line, and I can’t afford even the smallest distraction.

  “Look, Dez, there’s nothing to talk about, I had a great time, but it doesn’t change anything. I’ve got too much on my plate right now for any kind of involvement. My job has to come before everything and you and I aren’t the kind of thing that has any staying power anyway.”

  There’s silence for a moment, and my heart races along with my thoughts.

  “Yeah, that’s not what we need to discuss,” he answers.

  Well, now I feel like a fool. “Okay.” I swallow hard. “So what’s going on?”

  “Where are you?” he asks.

  “A Starbucks one block down First St. from the venue.”

  “I’ll be there in five.” Then he’s gone.

  I spend the next five minutes trying to steel myself for what’s coming. I can’t show weakness in front of Dez, I can’t let him know just how much I was affected last night. He’s a distraction, and my father would never accept me involved with him. With the future of the company hanging over my head there is no way I can let up for a moment, no way I can give Dad even the slightest reason to doubt me. So, no matter how hard it is to face Dez and turn him away, I have to do it.

  When the big black car pulls up in front of the windows I’m sitting at, the back door swings open but only Dez steps out. I brace myself, because it looks an awful lot like he can’t find Garrett and that’s what he’s come to tell me.

  “Let me guess, Garrett’s disappeared with a girl and you can’t find him,” I spit out as he approaches my table.

  He stands there looking down at me for a moment before he slides into the chair across the table.

  “He’s in the car,” he answers, his voice so much calmer than mine. I feel like a petulant child suddenly. In my haste to push him away I’ve overstepped and, if the look in his eyes is any indication, Dez knows exactly what’s happening.

  I don’t say anything else, and after a moment Dez continues. “He’s having some issues.”

  “Of course he is—what happened now? Please tell me it’s something simple like he knocked someone up.”

  Dez just shakes his head, a look of disappointment crossing his face. Fuck his disappointment. I have a job to do and Garrett’s issues are making it even more difficult.

  “He’s got an addiction.”

  My head throbs. No, no, no. We’ve just been through this with Blaze. I can’t keep these guys together if someone is going through another rehab stint. Goddamit.

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I whisper shout as I lean toward Dez.

  He shakes his head. “It’s the sex. He can’t stop, Shannon.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. All the women? It’s not just him being a rock star. He’s got a serious problem, and he’s going crazy. He needs help.”

  I feel like I’ve been slammed in the chest by a semi. This cannot be true. It simply can’t.

  “Do you realize what will happen if I put him in rehab right now?” I hiss.

  “Do you realize what will happen if you don’t?” he snaps back.

  We stare at one another, an uncomfortable standoff. I finally give in, because Dez is everything good and genuine, and while I can’t be that with him, I respect it and know that he’s the better person.

  “Ok, ok. I’ll call that place in Palm Springs and see if they can fit him in.”

  Dez toys with a spoon laying on the table. “I have a different idea.”

  Of course he does. I sigh. “All right, lay it on me.”

  “He wants to go to Kevin’s funeral.”

  I squint at him for a moment. “Did he know Kevin? And what does that have to do with rehab?”

  “He met him a couple of times when we hung out at the pub. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but for whatever reason he really wants this, so as long as he’s going up to Portland with me, why don’t we check him into Cedar Valley, the place Blaze was at?”

  I think about it for a moment. It’s actually not a bad idea; the places in Southern California tend to be staked out by paparazzi, and I’d love to keep this whole thing under wraps, at least for a while.

  “All right. Blaze liked it there, and it’ll get less media attention than one of the California places.”

  “Great. I’ll tell him it’s a go.”

  “Perfect, I’ll get on the phone to them right away so they’ll know to expect him.”

  Silence falls then, and not the comfortable kind.

  “Shannon,” he begins.

  “Not doing this,” I say softly. “You knew I couldn’t do this.”

  He purses his lips. “I knew you were fighting it, but after last night, I can’t believe you still are.”

  I look at him and see the hurt in his eyes. I’ve managed to push Dez, the most self-confident, self-aware person I know, to a place where he’s hurt and doubting. I’m a real prize. No wonder my father has such issues with me.

  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “I know that,” he answers. “But when you run from me you do, it’s how it’ll always be.”

  “Dez, you’ll get over it. I’m not that special, trust me. There are so many women out there who would be thrilled to spend time with you.”

  He shakes his head. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

  But the problem is that I do get it. What went on between us last night was something so much more than the physical. I’ve never felt like that with anyone. I’ve never felt that kind of desire, that kind of vulnerability. No, the problem is that I get it all too well. I simply can’t entertain it.

  “I’m sorry, Dez, but it’s not going to happen,” I say, avoiding his question entirely. “It was a lot of fun, but that’s as far as it goes.”

  He sits back and stares at me for just long enough that I’m beginning to squirm. “Okay,” he answers, his eyes boring into mine.

  “Okay then,” I say awkwardly.

  He stands and when I look up at him my heart contracts inside my chest. I can’t help but rub at the spot where it’s aching painfully. I struggle to maintain my composure, but I have to, I have to stop wishing for things I can’t have, and Dez Takimoto is right at the top of that list.

  “Do you want a ride to the venue?” he asks politely.

  “No thanks. I could use the walk,” I answer, my voice strained even to my own ears.

  He raps his knuckles on the tabletop once then turns and walks out of the coffee shop. As he waits for a guy with short bleached blonde hair to pass through the door the opposite way, I see the guy’s eyes light up and Dez flashes his trademark sweet smile at him. Dez continues on to the car and the other guy stops, turns, and watches him walk away, lust written all over his clean-cut face. Jealousy swirls in my gut just like last night when the groupie was pawing him at dinner.

  I realize that life with Dez would be even more difficult than it would be with the standard rock star because it’s adding gay and bisexual men into the mix of female groupies. And they will all want him, you can’t see Dez and not want him. I’m not sure how I was so oblivious to him for so long. It’s like I was walking around with blinders on, refusing to see the brilliant light right in front of me.

  Yes, I’m not sure I’d be woman enough to handle the attention Dez garners as he glides through our world. Other women I can manage, but how would I ever compete with men like blondie, now sitting down a few tables away from me? Aside from the obvious thing he has that I don’t, he’s cut, tall, sharp cheekbones, crystal blue eyes, impeccab
le style.

  I look at my phone and realize I need to get going, so I pack up my laptop and grab my empty cup to throw it away. As I pass blondie’s table though I give him a hard look and a mean smile. “He’s taken, by the way,” I say curtly. “But he is beautiful, isn’t he?”

  The guy raises an eyebrow at me and I keep on walking, a little swing in my step. It’ll be the one and only time I get to say it since it’s a lie, but damn, it felt good.

  The next two days fly by as we do one more stop on the tour and then have to get packed to go to Portland for the funeral. Either Dez or I have to be with Garrett all the time to keep him from grabbing some poor unsuspecting groupie off the street and fucking her senseless. He’s depressed and desperate, but even he admits that his fix isn’t working anymore, so he can’t simply fuck his way back to happiness.

  The funeral, fortunately, coincides with a three-day lull in the tour schedule, so I manage to get Garrett, Dez and I on board a plane and into Portland with just enough time to pick up Blaze at he and Tully’s house before the services.

  When we pull up, Blaze is waiting on the front steps of the trendy brownstone, a black shirt and tie on along with a pair of black jeans and a black leather jacket tossed over the whole thing. Dez is out of the car almost before it completely stops. He strides to Blaze and they grab each other in a power hug. I realize that it’s been tough on him to be so far from a man who’s as good as a brother to him during all of this. He’s been worried about Blaze and only by seeing him in person can he be assured that the big guy is okay.

  I step out of the car followed by Garrett.

  “You look good, man. How is Tully holding up?” Dez asks as we approach.

  “It’s really fucking hard on her,” Blaze answers, his voice soft and sad. “Kevin was more of a brother to her than her real ones ever were. He and Savvy have been looking out for her since she was a preteen. But she can’t fall apart right now because she has to prop Savvy up, so it isn’t until she’s alone with me that she really lets it show, and she’s torn up inside. Just shredded.” He shakes his head, and I watch the pain work its way across his eyes.