Racing to Rhapsody: A Rhapsody Novel

by Selena Laurence

  We talk some more about the tour, but I don’t tell her about Dez. I want to, but I’m afraid somehow that if I voice it to the most important person in my life, it’ll be real. And I know that’s when it’ll all fall to pieces, because I’ll never have a guy like Dez for real. I’ve been chasing love my whole life, and it’s always run from me. No reason to think that’s going to change. The best I can hope for is to enjoy the pretend world we’ve built on tour, and hope that when it’s all over it won’t hurt too bad.

  Dez

  She hates the necklace. Or she hates me. Or she got another call from her father that she’s not telling me about. Jesus. I feel like one of those guys in a rom-com. Insecure, talking way too much, making huge gaffes because I’m so awkward I can’t figure out how to relate to the hot chick who’s starring in the movie. I don’t even know who I am right now, and that’s never happened to me before. Ever.

  “Did you uh, want to grab some dinner somewhere? I know the flight leaves first thing in the morning, but I figured if we went a little early we could still get back in plenty of time to pack and get a good night’s sleep.” And now I’m a rock star worrying about whether we’re going to get enough sleep before we get on a private jet. God, I need help.

  She’s standing in front of the windows in our suite, fingering the necklace, looking like an angel—but an angel who’s ready to fly, wings spread, thoughts already high in the sky where the rest of her will be at any moment. She muttered something like “thank you” for the gift and hasn’t said a word since. Meanwhile I keep chattering, nervous and confused.

  “Actually, I’m thinking maybe I’ll stay here, get some room service.” She turns to me and gives me a less than genuine smile. “You should go though. Grab Carson and check out the nightlife.”

  My fingers itch to reach out and snatch that damn necklace back. It’s obviously made her uncomfortable. Whether it’s because she hates it or she’s scared of what it means—either way, I want to take it back. Undo whatever damage I’ve done in the last ten minutes. Take us back to this morning when my cock was inside of her and a smile was on her face.

  “Shannon—”

  “No, really. I insist. I’m going to stay here, do a little work, get packed. I’ll throw all your stuff in your bag too. That way you can stay out as late as you want.”

  She walks by me and gives me a quick kiss on the cheek, then she’s gone into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

  Fuck.

  I text Carson and make plans to meet up in an hour for some dinner. Then I flop down on the couch and flip TV channels for a while, wondering what the hell I did, and how badly I’ve fucked up. It was too soon. I knew that patience is the key with Shannon. She’s a runner, and while we’ve been sleeping together every night, we haven’t talked about our relationship at all. No words about the future, no titles like “girlfriend.” I told her I didn’t need labels, and I don’t, but that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t give her one if I thought I could. Mine would probably do.

  I switch off the bad action movie that’s been filling the room with the sounds of car crashes for the last twenty minutes. My phone dings then, and I realize I had the TV on so loud I didn’t hear it before. The text from Blaze is from five minutes ago.

  Blaze: Go talk to her.

  Me: ???

  Blaze: She knows she fucked up, just go talk to her.

  Fuck this. I hit speed dial number two and wait for Blaze to pick up.

  “You’re not pouting are you? Go talk to her,” he says when he answers.

  “I feel like I have a secret camera watching me or something. You’re creeping me out, dude.”

  “Did you have a disagreement with your woman?”

  “Not exactly. I gave her a gift and apparently it pissed her off.” I run a hand through my hair. “Shit. I don’t know. And she’s not my woman. And how the hell do you know all of this from five thousand miles away?”

  He chuckles. “She called Tully. She feels terrible and you need to go talk to her.”

  “So, let me get this straight—I’m sitting in the room next to her, like twenty feet away—and my best friend has to call from across the fucking Atlantic to tell me that she feels bad?”

  Blaze sighs. “Dude. I know this whole relationship thing is new to you, so take a deep breath. It’ll all be fine, but you need to go make up with her before she thinks you’re pissed and then it spirals.”

  “I’m not pissed,” I mutter, “just so confused.”

  “Yeah, about that—”

  I look up to see Shannon standing in the doorway to the bedroom watching me.

  “Gotta go, man.”

  “Be patient, Dez. It’s new for her too,” he admonishes.

  “Later.”

  I hang up the call and stare at her for a few seconds. She’s so fucking beautiful it makes my chest hurt sometimes. Now is one of those times. But her eyes are sad, and her shoulders are sagging, like she’s defeated, and I hate, more than anything, that I might have contributed in any way to her despair.

  “Baby?” I ask gently.

  “I’m sorry,” she blurts out. “I’m sorry for acting like an asshole, I’m sorry for being so incredibly ungrateful. I’m just sorry.” She covers her face with her hands for a moment before looking at me again.

  “No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I was out of bounds. I didn’t mean to make you feel pressured. I just saw the damn thing and it reminded me of you. I should have thought about it. It was impulsive, and I’m not usually.”

  She smiles a bit now. “You’re the least impulsive person I know.”

  “I’ll return it. Really, it’s not a big deal.” I hold out my hand for her to give me the necklace.

  “Do you want to return it?” Her brow furrows. “Do you wish you hadn’t given it to me?”

  “God, yes.” Her expression falls further. “Because it upset you.” I step closer to her. “I don’t ever want to upset you. No piece of jewelry is worth that.”

  She opens her hand and the necklace lays on her palm. “What if I don’t want you to take it back?”

  I feel something inside of me lift, floating like a kite in the wind. When I speak again my voice is rough and needy. “Do you know why it reminded me of you?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “Because it’s so strong but so beautiful at the same time. A steel butterfly. I can’t think of a better way to describe you.”

  Her gaze pins mine and we both move toward one another like there’s a wire between us, pulling tighter. “Will you put it on me?” she asks, so quietly it’s almost a whisper.

  I take the last big step and gently remove the necklace from her hand. Then I step behind her and wrap the slender cable around her neck. Images of her naked pressed over a table wearing nothing but this little scrap of metal race through my head and I have a semi before I can count to three.

  “Lift your hair,” I command.

  She follows my instructions and then I hook the tiny clasp. As her hair falls back down her back, I can’t stop myself from nuzzling it. The strawberry scent that follows her everywhere is strongest here, in her long tresses the color of fire.

  My hands fall to her hips. “Are you okay?” I whisper.

  “I’m scared,” she answers. “That this will get too real and then you’ll be gone.”

  I run my nose along the column of her neck and she sighs, tension leaving her body in a flood.

  “I’m in no hurry to go anywhere, baby.”

  “I’m really bad at this stuff, Dez. I don’t know how to do it.”

  I kiss up her neck and along her jaw before landing on her earlobe and giving it a nip. She moans softly.

  “I don’t know how to do it either. I think the idea is that we learn together.”

  “But you do sweet things like buy me beautiful jewelry and I do horrible things like run away from you.”

  I chuckle. “You only ran to the next room. It wasn’t much of a chase.”

  Standing behind
her like this I can see over her shoulder and straight down her cleavage. It’s a spectacular view, so I work my hand up under the hem of her shirt, smoothing over soft, ivory skin until I reach the satin of her bra, cupping her full breast as my fingertips seek the puffy nipple beneath the fabric.

  “Am I forgiven?” she gasps.

  I squeeze her breast and shove my other hand down the front of her jeans, making my way to the paradise that I’m sure will be wet and hot and waiting for my touch.

  “Does it feel like you’re forgiven?” I find my target and run my finger through her slick slit, pausing to give her clit a light rub.

  “Oh, God. Yeah, I think I feel forgiveness all over the place.”

  “Good. I want to forgive you for a nice, long time.”

  She grinds her ass against my hard on and I hiss in pleasure.

  “Take me to the bedroom and forgive me some more,” she pleads.

  “Okay. Let me text Carson and tell him dinner’s off.” I pull my hands away from her and smack her on the ass. “Go strip, but leave that necklace on.”

  She grins at me as she sashays to the bedroom, putting a whole lot of extra wiggle in her ass as she goes. Damn, I love her.

  The thought stops me cold, but only for a moment, because I know it’s true, and it has been since the first time I slipped inside her perfect body. What I feel with Shannon makes every other relationship I’ve had seem flimsy, superficial, disposable. And I finally know what my father meant when he said that I love lots of people, but I’ve never been in love with anyone until now.

  I quickly text Carson and cancel our dinner plans, then I make my way to the bedroom, shedding my clothes as I go. When I arrive, I find Shannon, propped on one elbow on the bed, wearing nothing but her steel butterfly, and a smile.

  “Can I ask you something?” I sit down next to her and stroke her long hair.

  “Of course.”

  “Are those birth control pills I’ve seen in your makeup bag in the bathroom?”

  She nods. “They are.”

  “And you take those every day like a good girl?”

  She grins, because she knows where I’m heading with this. “I do.”

  “You know, I’ve never been with someone without a condom.”

  Her grin grows bigger. “I haven’t since my boyfriend in high school.”

  I lean down and kiss her cheek. “I had a boyfriend in high school,” I whisper, teasing her.

  She giggles as I tickle her side. “I think mine was cuter,” she says through her laughter.

  “I bet you’re right.” I answer, before pouncing and pinning her underneath me. We’re both breathless, as I run my hands up her sides, pausing to stroke the curves beneath her breasts before coming to a stop, thumbs on either side of her face. I caress her high cheekbones, and gaze into her eyes.

  “I want to be bare inside you,” I say, my voice breaking it’s so husky now.

  “Yes,” she whispers. And even though my fantasy was to take her from behind while she wore the steel butterfly, I can’t wait for that. I don’t even check to make sure she’s ready, I just push in, and then my world is complete. I have never, never, felt anything like Shannon’s pussy with nothing between us.

  “Holy fuck,” I gasp. She moans at the same time, and both of us are utterly breathless.

  “Okay, I just figured out what all the straight guys have been talking about.”

  She laughs, and the motion nearly has me coming right then.

  “There aren’t words for how good you feel, baby,” I rasp into her ear.

  “Fuck me, Dez. Show me how good it feels.”

  So I do. I pump in and out of her over and over, lust and love mixing in my veins like a potent cocktail until my balls tighten to the point of pain, and Shannon is gasping and crying out beneath me, and I’m coming so hard I’m afraid I might have done some sort of permanent damage to one of us.

  When the aftershocks finally subside and I look down at her, she’s like a piece of caramel that’s melted in the sun she’s so sated.

  “You okay?” I ask, surprising even myself with the tenderness in my voice.

  She smiles up at me, her soft pink lips curling deliciously. “Never better.”

  I roll off of her and she immediately tucks herself into my side her long hair draping over the arm I wrap around her.

  “How’s your necklace?” I ask.

  “Perfect.” She pauses. “Just like the man who gave it to me.”

  I want to say “I love you,” but I know she’s not ready to hear it yet. So I settle for, “Right back at you, baby.” Then we both fall into a deep sleep.

  We only have two weeks left of the tour, and I’m definitely ready to go home. Before we left for this thing I’d spent four months in Portland helping make sure Blaze was on the straight and narrow after rehab. It’s been a very long time since I’ve been to my place in Santa Monica for more than a few nights. But going home in two weeks also means that whatever this is Shannon and I have going on will need to be discussed, and I’m worried about how to broach the subject.

  “Hey, man, do you have any more of those sharpies?” Carson asks, leaning toward me from his seat to my right.

  I ask the woman in front of me to hold on and dig around in the box of shit they gave me before the signing. Water bottles, snack bars, and sharpies of various colors are scrambled together.

  “Here you go,” I say handing him a teal one. “How are you today?” I ask the woman. “What did you want signed?”

  She gapes at me for a second before answering in a small, shrill voice. “This.” She shoves a magazine at me with a picture of Rhapsody on the cover. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” she continues.

  I’m not sure whether to laugh or blush. “Uh, thanks. Here you go.” I hand the magazine back. She takes a look at what I’ve written—You have to be beautiful to see beautiful—and starts screaming. Out and out screaming. Both Carson and I jump, and several of the people in line behind her do as well. She’s screaming now, and crying at the same time, stomping her feet in place, hands waving above her head.

  “Shit, is she having a seizure?” Carson asks, standing from his chair.

  Before I can answer or leap over the table, which I’m about to do, security guards are there, one on each side of her.

  “You’ll have to come with us, ma’am,” one says.

  “Are you able to walk?” the other asks.

  They each take one of her elbows and begin to lead her away. Her face is bright red and she’s sobbing, but she cooperates and goes with them. Everyone in the general vicinity breathes a sigh of relief and Carson waves over the event coordinator.

  “Can we have five minutes?” he asks. She agrees and we both walk to the curtained off area where a couple of folding directors chairs are set up for staff and others like us to sit out of sight for a few moments.

  “Jesus,” Carson exclaims collapsing into one of the chairs.

  “I swear I don’t know what I did.” I put my arms out in the universal gesture of, what the hell?

  “What did you sign, just your name?”

  “No, I added a little quote. Nothing major, one line.” I take the chair next to his.

  “Well, apparently it was one line more than her fragile mental state could handle.”

  We look at each other and both start laughing. Within a few seconds we’re giggling like teenage girls, hardly able to breathe.

  “God, dude, I’ve never seen a fan go that wacko,” Carson gasps between giggles.

  “Right? Poor woman.” I wipe my eyes that are watering from laughing so hard. “I feel bad, she was kind of sweet, but good god.”

  “Did you ever hear that story that Joss Jamison told about the fans in Portland when Lush first got big?”

  “No, but I remember seeing the mobs on like ETV or one of those shows. What did you hear?”

  “I was sitting around with him and Walsh one time last summer at the West Fest 666 to
ur. I think maybe it was the L.A. show? Anyway, Walsh was teasing Joss because some girl had thrown her bra at him while they were performing and then they start telling these stories.”

  “I bet those guys have some stories that would singe your ears. They were hardcore before wives and rehab.”

  “Well, their fans were too. Joss was living in this condo in Portland, he had the whole third floor or something. And Your Air had just come out, so Lush was super hot.”

  “Yeah, I remember when that album came out. Everyone went totally nuts.”

  “There were women hanging outside Joss’s building twenty-four seven. Walsh said he was such a baby he was scared to leave his apartment.”

  I laugh, because I could see that about Joss. He’s weirdly introverted.

  “But one day he hears this strange thumping sound from the wall outside his living room. So he goes to the window and looks out and there is a chick using rock climbing gear to scale the side of the building.”

  I stare at Carson.

  “For real, dude. She was hammering spikes into the walls of the building, had a harness, ropes, the whole thing.”

  I can’t even laugh I’m so stunned.

  “No. Damn. Way.”

  He nods, looking smug because he’s topped any fan story I’ve ever told or heard.

  “So how did they get her down?”

  “The cops came and she refused to go down the way she came, so they had to let her climb the rest of the way to Joss’s apartment window and as soon as she climbed in they grabbed her and arrested her.”

  “God, poor Joss.”

  “Yeah, he’s like a magnet for the mega crazies, but it looks like you might give him a run for his money.” Carson winks at me and I shake my head.

  “No way. This was a once in a lifetime freaky fan. I’d rather not be that successful if that’s what comes of it.”

  “I hear you,” Carson agrees.

  The curtains part and Shannon walks in. She’s wearing a white denim outfit. The bottom is shorts that make her long tan legs look so sexy I want to lick them from ankle to hip bone. The top half snaps up the front, leaving a nice amount of cleavage exposed, with tiny little sleeves. On her feet is a pair of bright red sandals with a wedge heel, and around her neck is the steel butterfly that she hasn’t taken off since I got it for her. I don’t know much about women’s fashions, but I definitely approve of the ensemble.