Second Chances (The Lust List: Devon Stone #2)

by Mira Bailee

  As a matter of fact…But it’s not like I’m going to tell her that. My phone blinks back to life with a voicemail waiting for me. The perfect excuse not to explain last night to Maddie, I lean down so my charging phone can reach my ear.

  “This message is for Olivia Margot. My name is Robert Klein. I’m calling from Eco-Groove Events. We’re very interested in having you in for an interview. We have several employment opportunities available and are certain you’d be an excellent fit. Please call back at…”

  I listen to the rest and then play it over again. Weird. How’d they even get my number?

  “…Leave your best friend hanging, when all I want to do is celebrate your liberation.” Maddie’s been talking this whole time. She’s far too excited. “You realize the step you took last night? I mean, for an ordinary person, promiscuity is no big deal, but you…You, Liv, are extraordinary. You–”

  “Are you sure you’re not putting all the attention on me because you don’t want to tell me about your night?” I leave my room and head toward the bathroom to brush my teeth. Maddie follows.

  “My night?” Maddie says, leaning against the doorframe. “I cleaned the bar. Packed away glasses and bottles. Came home. Showered. Went to bed. What are you not telling me?”

  “Nothing,” I snap. “I need to lie down. Sorry. We’ll talk more later, okay?” I head back toward my room. This time Maddie doesn’t follow.

  “Are you alright?” she asks, and I look back at her to see her face wrinkled with worry.

  There’s no easy way to answer that. “I will be.”

  I close the door behind me and fall, defeated, into my bed. Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to forget everything that happened this morning–and last night, for that matter. Maybe I’m not cut out for the Hollywood life. But there has to be more to Devon. He’s not letting me in, and I can accept that. It’s only been a week. But underneath the anger and defensiveness, there has to be another side to him. I’ve seen it in the fleeting moments where he’s been sweet and gentle and thoughtful. I want to be the one to bring out the real Devon Stone.

  But he has to want that as well.

  * * *

  I wake up feeling groggy a couple hours later and stumble out to the kitchen to try to start the day over again with a fresh pot of coffee. The TV’s on, and I’m surprised to see Maddie has company. I do a double take as I realize that, though she’s managed to get dressed, this guy is relaxing in my living room–on my couch–in his boxers. I recognize him too. He’s the hot blond guy with a lip ring Maddie was talking to at the party. I glare at her until her eyes meet mine, and she can’t help but smile.

  She jumps up and comes over to me. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine,” I say. “So you came home, showered, and went to bed? You liar.”

  She grins wildly and points her finger at me, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Hey, I didn’t say a single thing that wasn’t true. I just didn’t do any of those things alone.”

  “Mhmm.”

  We both laugh, and Maddie returns to her new friend. I settle into the loveseat as Maddie introduces us.

  “Olivia, this is Corey. Corey, Olivia.”

  He nods and then his eyes light up like he’s realized something.

  “I know you,” he says.

  “You do?” Please don’t tell me he reads tabloids too.

  “Devon’s girl.”

  “So you know Devon?”

  “Sort of. Not really.” Okay, this guy’s not lacking in the looks department, but I’m far from impressed with his conversational skills. “My cousin’s a friend of his. Well, was. They got in trouble a while back. I don’t think they talk much anymore.”

  Why doesn’t that surprise me? It seems like Devon’s entire past revolves around the theme of ‘Trouble’. “What sort of trouble did they get into?” I’m sure I could guess with limited tries. Drugs? Burglary? Reckless driving? Or something all new like hiring a prostitute or…

  “They trashed a hotel after a gig one night.”

  What? That’s it? That’s not even criminal–just…rude. “I’m sorry, elaborate a little?”

  “Parasyt–with a ‘y’–had a gig, opening for Tempest Ultra a few years ago.”

  “Who’s Parasyt?”

  Now he talks to me like I’m slow. “Your boyfriend’s band. Old band, I guess. They haven’t done much recently.”

  Hold the fucking phone. Devon is–was–in a band? I laugh, imagining him on a stage in front of an adoring audience.

  “You don’t believe me.”

  I may have only recently met Devon, but something tells me I’d know if the son of the biggest international record label had his own band. I mean, it’s not like they’d have trouble getting signed. Calvin Stone could snap his fingers and make them the biggest band in the world. “Of course I believe you.” Or hardly at all, buddy.

  My laptop lays on a side table, and I pull it over to me and open it to do my own digging. If it’s true, I can certainly find it, but my expectations are pretty low.

  “They finished a decent set, and then had some insane afterparty at the hotel.”

  I type in a search for Parasyt that immediately tries to correct to the proper spelling. But below the unhelpful “Did you mean…”, there are results listed, the most recent being over two years ago. The title reads, Sex, Drugs, Rock and Roll–Have Devon Stone and Kennedy Rose gone from touring pals to…something more?

  I curl my lip in faint disgust, remembering how nasty Kennedy was last night. Wonder how she’s doing right now…It might be cruel, but her disappointment makes me a little giddy.

  The next result sounds like it could be something. When Rock Stars Get Rowdy.

  I click it, and a page opens to some indie rock blog–dark and edgy colors and fonts and a big photo at the top of Devon behind a drum kit. This might be the best revelation about him yet. In the picture, he’s in a grungy club, drenched in sweat, holding two drumsticks, looking like he’s out to kill a cymbal rather than set the rhythm. His bandmates are on the stage in front of him decked out in eyeliner and head-to-toe black ensembles.

  Corey continues to ramble on about unimportant details, claiming his cousin told him so, while I fact check and try to hide my amusement. Devon in a band. All the attention he says he hates.

  But then I read the article. Sure, like cliché rock stars they messed up the hotel room, broke a mirror and stained the bathtub blue with an impromptu hair dying session–I bet Kennedy was involved in that. But it’s not the liquor bottles or pot smoke smell they left behind that’s unsettling. It’s the pill bottles that were later found. Damn.

  All my anger from earlier comes back. This isn’t some minor misunderstanding. This is bigger than that. I had every right to ask Devon, and the fact he fought with me and wouldn’t talk about it…A pit in my stomach confirms something isn’t right.

  I have the urge to tell Maddie everything. She always has the right solutions. But with company…

  There’s a knock at the door, and Maddie leaps up to answer. No, I’ll have to talk to her later. She clearly has plans today. I don’t want to bring her down.

  I’m staring at the computer screen when I hear, “Olivia.”

  My heart stops, and I look up. Devon is standing in the doorway.

  Devon strolls in and surveys the place as he walks toward me. Maddie’s wide eyes follow him, and I stand up, leaning down to quickly shut my laptop. It’s a surreal moment for sure–having Hollywood royalty in our crummy apartment. Devon approaches me, and I don’t know what to say.

  “Hey.” That’s the best I’ve got right now. I’m too surprised he’s even here.

  “Hey man,” Corey echoes, clearly unfazed by the fact he’s in his underwear, surrounded by people.

  Devon gives him a quick once over and scrunches up his face at the sight of the half-naked guy. But he doesn’t seem to recognize him. He looks back at me. “Can we talk? Privately?”

  Maddie grabs Corey’s hand and p
ulls him toward her room. “We’ll get out of your way.”

  I know her tricks. These walls are paper-thin. It wouldn’t matter where we went, she’d be able to hear everything.

  Once we have the room to ourselves, Devon speaks quietly. “I’m leaving,” he says.

  “You just got here.”

  “I’m going away for a couple days. To Oregon.”

  So he’s really on a mission to find this M. H. person? “Did your guy call you back? What did he find out?”

  “A load of worthless shit. I’m going to have to do this myself.” He grazes his hand over my arm, and I flinch. I step back from him.

  “Why are you here telling me this?”

  “Because I want you to go with me.” He runs his hand through his hair as though we’re in high school, and he’s nervously waiting for me to accept his invitation to prom.

  But where’s all this coming from? He was pissed at me earlier. We fought. I left. How can he come here acting like none of that happened? Why would I run off with him again now?

  He can’t pretend everything is okay between us. “I have plans tomorrow…I can’t—”

  “I’m sorry I was an asshole earlier.” He speaks quickly, spitting out his words as though he hates the sound of them.

  I wait for him to continue.

  “The pills you found are my friend’s. Lucas’s. Lucas Shelton if you paid any attention to what was written on the bottle. You met him on the yacht, remember?”

  L Shel. Lucas Shelton.

  Tattooed, pierced Lucas who thought Devon getting caught with a stolen car while having sex with his ex was hilarious. Yeah, I remember him, and my skin crawls thinking of him.

  “He was staying at my place for a while. He left them behind and hasn’t come back for them yet. Last I checked, it’s not my job to play housekeeper, so if he wants them, he knows where to find them.”

  “So they aren’t yours?” I rub my stomach, trying to settle the uneasy feeling that persists.

  “Is my name Lucas?”

  I drop my defenses, letting my arms relax. “Why does Lucas have all of them?”

  “Those are his issues to deal with. You’ll have to ask him.”

  Yeah right. That guy gave me weird vibes on the yacht. I’d rather not see him again.

  “Why couldn’t you tell me that this morning?”

  “Because I’m not a fan of being attacked in my own place, especially by nosy girlfriends.”

  Talk about mixed reactions. I don’t know whether to smack him or kiss him. Did he just call me his girlfriend, insulting me in the same sentence?

  “I’m not sure a road trip is the answer to our problems.” I can only imagine. Me. Devon. Hours of arguing. That would be the end of us entirely. Without a doubt.

  Devon closes the space between us and kisses me. “I said I was sorry. Come with me.” He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me closer. Kissing my ear, his lips send shivers through my entire body. “Think,” he whispers, and my breath catches in my throat, “the two of us. All alone. For days.” He speaks low, and I close my eyes. “We can do anything we want.”

  I snap out of his trance and step back. “You mean days of us arguing and you losing your temper?” I add a quick smile so he knows I’m not being completely serious. But really, that’s what I can predict. This trip can go really great… or it can backfire like a nightmare.

  Devon looks down on me, his eyes intently focused on mine. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  He’s intoxicating. Looking at him puts me under his spell. “Well, let’s not go that far.” Maybe I want a taste of Devon’s trouble. And I really don’t have anything better to do. “I’d need to pack. I’m not sure I even have a bag—”

  As quickly as I say it, Maddie’s door opens, and a pink duffel bag comes flying out, landing at my feet. Of course she was eavesdropping. Her door closes without us catching a glimpse of her, and I laugh. “All right then. Give me a minute.”

  I take the bag to my room and drop it onto my bed. I’m not sure this is a good idea, and my body seems to agree. My stomach turns at the thought of leaving town, and my hands tremble. I convince myself it’s merely excitement. I take a deep breath. This will be fun–I hope. But if anything’s going to happen between me and Devon, then I have to take some risks.

  I unzip the duffel bag and pull it open to find my trusty best friend has provided her own contributions. I stifle my laughter as I inventory a tiny red dress, black lacy lingerie, and a sealed sample bottle of edible massage oil. She even included a few condoms. Maddie to the rescue. I feel my cheeks redden, and then my heart jolts at the sound of footsteps from behind. I jam everything back into the bag right as Devon walks into my room. I hide my embarrassed face as I rush through my closet and drawers picking out the best of what I have.

  “So…why do you even want to find this person?” Is it really necessary? I feel like it won’t make him feel any better to meet the guy in his father’s will.

  Devon leans against my desk, picking up my worn out copy of Jane Eyre. Now there’s a girl who can take control. “My dad’s gotten into…situations…in the past.” He ruffles through some pages and sets the book back down. “This looks like another, so I want to know for sure.”

  “Can’t your private investigator find out?” I pile my clothes into the bag while watching Devon.

  “He hasn’t found anything yet. Leaving now, we’ll have a head start for when he does.”

  I pack my phone charger and makeup and pick up the bag to carry it to the bathroom.

  “I’ll help you,” Devon says, coming over to me.

  “It’s okay. I got it.” On the way to the bathroom I ask, “For someone who doesn’t get along with his family at all, why do you care so much?” I finish packing and we return to the living room.

  “My family in a nutshell–they’d rather use money to solve their problems. I think that’s bullshit. Therefore, I’m the only one who actually gets anything fixed.”

  “Even after the way they treat you?” Screwing him over with the company. Taking away his inheritance. The blatant insults…

  “I’m not doing it for them,” he snaps.

  But I don’t believe him. I drop it, since I know challenging him will only lead to another fight. If he’s not doing it for his family, then why are we going? For Devon? For his pride? His curiosity. No. This is to protect those he loves the most, whether he’ll admit it or not.

  Devon’s sporty blue Camaro glistens in the sunlight in the parking lot of my apartment complex. I could almost convince myself he cleans and waxes it everyday, but I’m sure he has staff for that.

  “So where to first, Mr. Stone?”

  “We’ll know when we get there.” Devon flashes me his sexy smile and takes my bag, tossing it in the trunk next to his own. He drops into the driver’s side seat and waits for me to get in. I sit down and barely have my second leg inside when Devon switches to reverse and hits the gas. The car jolts backward as I yank my foot in and pull the door shut. He shifts gears again and takes off like we’re in a car chase fleeing the scene of a crime. I buckle my seatbelt and hug my purse in my lap as we pull out onto the road. Who knows what I’ve gotten myself into this time?

  The relentless L.A. traffic prevents us from getting out of town too fast. While Devon does his best to weave through the lanes of cars, narrowly missing semis and flipping off motorcyclists who are even riskier than he is, the breeze coming through his open window wages war on his messy hair. The dark locks blow across his forehead, and mixed with his intense focus on the road and the scruff on his unshaven face, it’s really hard to look away.

  He catches me staring. “What?” He glances over for a split second.

  “Oh nothing. I read something about you…”

  “More snooping? Should I hire you as my private investigator?”

  I feel my skin flush. “It’s not that.” Well, yes it is, but, “Corey–the guy at the apartment with Maddie–”

&
nbsp; “I know who he is.” His eyes stay on the road, and he seems hardly interested in what Corey had to say.

  “He mentioned you were in a band.”

  Devon snarls his top lip like he smelled something awful. “You couldn’t have nosed around for something better?”

  I laugh. “How can anything be better than rock star Devon, drummer for Parasyt–spelled wrong?”

  “It wasn’t a big deal. Just some shitty garage band. It’s not like we hit the charts or anything.” He runs a hand through his hair as if that marks the end of the discussion, but I only have loads of questions.

  “But why? You could have I’m sure.” You know…connections and all that. Daddy Stone should have been able to pull some strings.

  “You mean we could’ve signed to Stone? No thanks. I didn’t want it to be a job. It was for fun. Once you become a label slave, it loses its appeal.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve seen rock stars on TV and stuff. They’re pretty happy with their success.”

  “Good actors. They’re riding the high that comes with money and attention. I’ve seen it often. They trade happiness for a song. I might not be very career-focused right now, but at least I still have my identity. That’s far more important than anything a hit single could provide.”

  Tell me how you really feel, Devon.

  Maybe he’s right. Maybe I know nothing about this world. And yet, I’m a part of it now. I’ll have to learn. It’s amazing when you think about it. In this past week, my life has completely changed. I took a leap and landed right here–next to a man I couldn’t have thought up in my dreams if I tried. Even being rough around the edges, Devon is infinitely better than any boyfriend from my past. Take my last boyfriend, Bryce, for example. I may have pushed him away in fear he was developing a gambling addiction, but if I think about it, there were far more reasons I should have dumped him earlier than I did. He’d spend days lounging on my sofa in his pajamas playing video games. He claimed to have a part-time job, but I never saw him go to it. The only time he’d get dressed and leave was when he was spending the weekend in Vegas with friends. Then he was suddenly some sophisticated, suit-wearing top dog. Granted, I think it was him in those suits that kept me around–I love a man who cleans up well–but the reality is, it was easy to be with him. I wasn’t challenged. I didn’t have to do anything outside my comfort zone. Things were safe…and really fucking boring.