Nikan Rebuilt--A steamy, emotional rockstar romance

by Scarlett Cole

  Before she could find the words or control of her emotions, the gate swung open. Elliott and the boy from the photograph on Ellen’s fridge walked up the driveway. Beneath his shorts, the boy appeared to be wearing some kind of black compression leggings. She’d seen them before on a child in her care in Ottawa who had suffered severe burns.

  Ravi ran up alongside her. “Daniel, you made it. I can’t wait to practice with you guys today.”

  “Practice what?” Jenny asked, looking at Nik.

  “Guitar,” Nik said, lifting the guitar case he carried into the air and turning slightly so she could see another strapped to his back. “Every Saturday that we’re in town or have the chance, some of us come over and teach the kids how to play.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal. “It’s how we got our start, right? And we figured it was the least we could do to give these kids the same opportunity we had.”

  Ellen hadn’t mentioned this when they’d done their handover, but the gesture hit her firmly in the chest. It was a wonderful thing to do, and by the way Ravi was bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, it was something the boys looked forward to.

  Elliott handed his guitar off to the boy she now knew was Daniel and stepped up the stairs. “It’s been a long time, Jenny. I can’t imagine a time when Ellen doesn’t run this place, but there’s a certain rightness to you being here.” He opened his arms and Jenny stepped into them, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job of keeping in touch,” she said. While Nik had been the love of her life, Elliott had always been there to help her make sense of it. For the longest time, she had been mad at just about everybody in the band for not telling her sooner about Nik’s indiscretion. But then she had realized that the boys would always have each other’s backs ahead of anyone else’s, and in a way she’d admired that.

  Elliott stepped back. “It’s okay. I’m sorry too. I understand. Dipshit ruined it for all of us.” He looked over his shoulder to where Nik stood, his hands thrust deep into his pockets. “Anyway, everybody feels bad, even if it doesn’t seem that way. Hey, Daniel, come over here and meet Jenny. Jenny, this is my son, Daniel.”

  “Hey, Jenny. Is it cool if I go hang out with Ravi, please?”

  With strawberry blond hair and fair skin, Daniel looked absolutely nothing like Elliott. Besides, she hadn’t been away long enough for Elliott to have had a son that age. “Of course you can.” She stepped to one side so that Daniel could pass. “He’s very polite, Elliott. He’s a credit to you.”

  “I only wish I could accept the compliment. But Kendalee and I—that’s Daniel’s mom—only got together earlier this year. She did all the hard work. You cool if I go in and start getting us set up?”

  “Please,” she said, gesturing in the direction of the living room. “Go ahead. You know your way around this house better than I do.”

  “That I do,” he said with a wink and disappeared inside.

  When she looked over to Nik, his face was unreadable. “You’re welcome to come in too.”

  Nik didn’t move. “Is it wrong that I’m jealous of my best friend? I hate that you just stepped into his arms when you won’t even look me in the eye.”

  For a moment, she felt something desperately close to sympathy for him. She wanted to look him in the eye, wanted to go back to those days when he could turn her on with his heated stare . . . until she remembered why their relationship was the way it was. “While I’m certain Elliot knew what was happening on that tour, he wasn’t the one who cheated on me.” She needed to get things back onto a professional footing. “Look, I’m more than happy for you to come over here and help these kids because Lord knows they need as many advocates as they can get. But please don’t use the time you spend here in some misguided attempt to get us back together. That ship sailed a long time ago.”

  Her heart raced in denial.

  Nik took a step toward her. “Do you really believe that, Jenny? Without so much as a conversation?” He reached for her hand, and for some reason she let him take it. Nostalgia, or a deep-seated need for his touch she’d tried to bury—she couldn’t decide which. “There is still something here. I can feel it.”

  His fingers felt more calloused than they used to, likely hardened from years of playing the guitar. How many other parts of him changed? How much had she changed? “I don’t know how you can say that. We don’t even know each other anymore, Nik. I’m a completely different person from the girl who found out you cheated on her from the cover of People magazine.” She looked over her shoulder to make sure none of the children could overhear their conversation. “I think the past should stay exactly that—the past. It’s unhealthy to get lost back there again.”

  Nik looked over her shoulder, reached for the handle, and pulled the door closed behind her. Then he moved even closer, his body lined up perfectly against hers. She could feel the firmness of his abs as he placed his arm around her waist and moved his lips to her ear. His closeness caused her to shiver, and she automatically tilted her head to one side to allow him better access.

  “I let you walk away without a fight when I was a messed-up twenty-three-year-old who hadn’t figured out his place in the world. I can wait as long as you need to get your head around the fact that I’m back. I can wait even longer until you trust me again because I know I have a lot to make up for.”

  Then he kissed her cheek softly, the way he used to when they’d just made love. When their damp skin was pressed together. As they fought against the breathlessness that used to consume them when they climaxed together. She squeezed her thighs together in response. Then his lips pressed gently against the side of her neck, causing her to shiver. “I’ll see you inside.”

  Without another word, he stepped around her, pushed the door open, and disappeared into the home. Jenny reached her hand out for the wall. She felt dizzy, disoriented. Breathless, even.

  After she’d been rescued from the cult, she’d suffered from feeling like she was observing the world from outside of herself. “Depersonalization” it had been called, a kind of dissociative episode where she was left observing her emotions rather than feeling them. As though she was having an out-of-body experience.

  The first time she’d finally felt anchored back inside of herself had been when Nik had kissed her for the first time. It had rooted her in the present. Given her something real and true to hold on to. In that moment, she’d forgotten about the past.

  And she felt it again right now, all the way down to her ballet flats.

  Every part of her was mentally screaming to not let Nik back into her life—except one. Her heart remembered the reason why he’d once been her world.

  Taking a deep breath, Jenny followed him inside the house.

  She wandered into the dining room, where she could hear the twang of guitar strings, some sounding musical, some sounding awful, not that it mattered because there was a smile on every boy’s face.

  Her assistant house manager, Simon, came up behind her. “Pretty amazing, isn’t it? Pity we can’t get them this excited about chores,” he said, letting out a booming laugh. “Would make life so much easier around here, wouldn’t it?”

  “Doesn’t Leon join in?” she asked, noticing that the boy wasn’t sitting with the rest of them.

  “Not so far. But every time before he leaves, Nik spends a half hour with him, even if Leon sits there and says nothing.”

  Jenny watched as Nik showed Albi how to play a chord, helping him stretch his fingers across the strings. Mark was sitting in the corner quietly playing along. There was another knock at the door. “I’ll get that,” she said.

  She pulled the door open and was surprised to find the one man she’d always been able to count on standing outside. The man who’d once told her that she reminded him of someone, but wouldn’t tell her who, not matter how hard she pressed him.

  “Heard you were back and that you may have a kid who guitars just don’t do it for,�
� Lennon said.

  Her throat tightened at the sight of the man who’d been there for her during the lowest period of her life. Even though she knew it would make him uncomfortable, or at least it used to, she stepped forward and gave him a heartfelt hug. She felt him stiffen, and he gently placed his arms on her shoulders to nudge her away. Anybody watching might think he disliked her, but the car in her driveway, as small and uncool as it was, had been all Lennon had been able to afford when Jenny had felt she had no choice but to leave Toronto. And despite his offers to replace it for her over the years, she’d clung to it.

  “Lennon,” she said softly. “I don’t know how to thank you for—”

  “Don’t . . . Just don’t.”

  So she didn’t, out of respect for the man who’d once shared with her just the smallest amount of what his life had been like before he’d come into care. Most of the world might not understand Lennon’s moods and motivations, and she’d read some of the cruel articles about his alleged bad behavior, cool demeanor, and callous attitude, but she understood. Out of respect for the undying loyalty he’d shown her, she would never say a word to anyone.

  “I haven’t told Nik,” she said, “in case you are concerned.”

  “I’m not concerned,” he said. “If he finds out I knew where you where, then he finds out. . . . So, drums.”

  It was clear he wanted to change the subject. In an attempt to be normal and to sweep everything he’d ever done for her under the carpet, she plastered a bright smile onto her face. “If you’re talking about Leon, he’s in the living room. But the rest of the guys are in the dining room learning guitar.”

  “Guitars are for pussies who couldn’t hold a beat if their lives depended on it,” he said. “This is where real musical talent lies.” He patted what looked like an electronic drum kit. He had clearly carried all the pieces up to the porch before knocking.

  “Do you normally do this on a Saturday?” she asked.

  Lennon placed the first part of the kit in the hallway. “No, but I know the guys come and Leon doesn’t join in. So I figured I’d let him give drumming a shot.”

  Unable to help herself, she reached out her hand and touched Lennon on the forearm. He jumped and looked down at her hand as if it were burning him. “Why don’t you let the rest of the world see this side of you, Lennon? You’re a good man.”

  Lennon shook his head. “Don’t fool yourself, Jenny. I’m the asshole everyone else thinks I am.”

  If only he knew that beneath the arrogance she could hear the sadness that filled his words.

  * * *

  “You’re doing great,” Nik said as he watched the quiet kid, Mark, play the chords they’d been trying their best to teach them today.

  What Ravi lacked in talent he certainly made up for in an effort, leaving both Ravi and Daniel in fits of laughter. Daniel may not have been Elliott’s son biologically, but musically he may as well have been.

  Nik glanced over toward the doorway. Jenny had gone to answer the door and hadn’t returned. He wanted desperately to finish what they’d started on the porch, to run his lips further along her jaw until they reached those sweet lips of hers and—

  “Is this right?” Albi asked as he attempted to play the handwritten notes that Nik had taken the time to prepare the night before.

  “Not quite. Here, try this,” he said, mirroring the notes on his own guitar.

  The boys had begun to ask when they could play a Preload song, but that wasn’t an easy task, given the adult nature of the lyrics. So Nik had taken one of their older songs and rearranged it with minor lyric changes and a simpler chord structure, making it easier to learn and with a far more PG vocal.

  The rattle of a snare drum had everyone immediately looking toward the living room. To the best of his knowledge, there wasn’t a drum kit in the house, something he had considered rectifying but had never gotten around to.

  Elliot gave him a questioning look, and Nik shrugged.

  “Is that a drum?” Ravi asked.

  “Carry on with Elliott for a second, boys,” Nik said.

  He stepped into the living room to find Leon still playing the videogame, Jenny sitting on the arm of the sofa, and Lennon sitting calmly on the other side of the room tapping on an electronic drum kit.

  What the fuck?

  Lennon had never joined them before. In fact, when he’d been asked, Nik specifically remembered Lennon calling kids “little fuckers.”

  “You okay there, Lennon?” Nik asked.

  “Figured I’d come hang out with you guys. But doesn’t really seem like anybody is interested in the drums,” he said, giving a pointed stare toward Leon.

  He’d remembered. The only time they had mentioned their concerns about Leon and his lack of interest in group activities in front of Lennon, they had been on a plane back from Europe. It had been well over a month ago, maybe even two. Nik had never fully understood Lennon’s struggles. Sometimes, he seemed completely disinterested in the world, in their music, and in them as individuals. But every now and then he would pull something out of the bag like this, something so unexpected that it was impossible to not care for the guy.

  “Guess I came over here for nothing,” Lennon said and rattled off a piece that sounded easy to the ear but that Nik knew was complex as fuck. “Drumming isn’t for everyone,” he shouted as he continued to play, and Nik could see the way Jenny had to cover her mouth to hide the smile he knew was forming. “Only those who have great hand-eye coordination, for example, can play. It’s way tougher than video games.”

  Leon looked over to Lennon but quickly returned to his game.

  Nik winked at Lennon. “I guess we got lucky that you came to live with us when you did, then. Otherwise we’d have been fucked.”

  “NIK!” Jenny shouted. “That kind of language is not appropriate.”

  He looked back at her but could tell the admonishment had been purely to save face in front of the children. “You’re right, Jenny. Sorry. I guess I was just thinking about how great it could have been if we could have gotten another band going in here. You remember how much fun it was, Lennon, when we first started getting those gigs?”

  “And how once it started to take off, we were able to make a bit of extra coin on top of our wages,” Lennon added.

  “I remember going to the shows. Well, whenever I was allowed to. The leader of my group home wasn’t quite so liberal,” Jenny added.

  Leon placed the controller at one side. “You grew up in care?”

  Jenny nodded and moved from the chair arm to the sofa near Leon. “Yes, I did. At the same time as these guys. You could say we grew up together.” She looked straight at Nik, her tone wistful.

  “Don’t start getting all fucking nostalgic,” Lennon said, spinning his drumsticks. “It wasn’t always perfect.”

  “I’d settle for ‘perfect’ every once in a while,” Leon growled, looking back toward the television screen. The pain in the kid’s voice was the clearest indication of Leon’s mental state he’d heard yet. It had taken Lennon showing up to get even that from him.

  “On a scale of one to ten, how angry are you right now, Leon?” Lennon asked.

  “Fucking eleven,” Leon said.

  “You know what I play when I’m feeling a fucking eleven?” Lennon asked. He didn’t answer. Instead, he cracked his sticks together and launched into “Disasterpiece” by Slipknot, the way Joey Jordison did before he got himself kicked out of the band. All arms flying and deadly rhythms.

  Nik watched Leon study Lennon as he beat the shit out of the electronic kit.

  “When I’m feeling an eight, I play this,” Lennon said, changing to a classic Iron Maiden song. He played a few bars. “A two?” This time it was the big drum breakout from the middle of “In the Air Tonight.” He stopped abruptly and laughed. “Just fucking with you. I never play Phil Collins. But you could, if you wanted to.” He offered his sticks to Lennon. “Want to learn how to beat the shit out of something when you
are angry without going to prison?”

  It was so inappropriately blunt. And yet it was the perfect thing to get the kid’s attention.

  There was a long silence in the room. Nik didn’t dare speak, and it was clear Jenny felt the same. Leon stood and placed the controller next to the TV, looking as though he were about to leave the room. But then he walked over to the drum kit and offered his open palm. Lennon placed the sticks in it.

  “Now sit down,” Lennon said, getting up from his seat, “and learn from the master.”

  The twang of a really bad chord sounded from the other room, and everybody laughed. “I think that’s my cue to get back to teaching guitar,” Nik said.

  When he slipped out into the hallway, Jenny followed. “I couldn’t even bring myself to tell him off for swearing because I’ll take any breakthrough or progress we can get.”

  “Lennon has always been a hard one to figure out, but then a part of me sometimes wonders whether he isn’t actually the best of all of us.”

  It reminded her of Ellen’s comments about Lennon, that the band hadn’t realized what he brought to the group. Jenny looked toward the door in the direction of the beat that had begun. The sound was a little uneven, but the beat was clear and steady, which gave Nik hope.

  “I think you might be right,” she answered. The opening notes of “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac drifted into the hallway. Elliott was playing, but the song reminded Nik of Jenny.

  “You were humming this the day we met,” Nik said.

  “I was?”

  “Yeah. At that therapist’s office. Do you remember the receptionist used to have that little radio set to some easy listening station?”

  Jenny sighed. “Those really weren’t the best times for me. Everything was so raw and so new that it was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other.” She tucked her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

  He’d been fifteen; she’d been thirteen with pretty eyes.

  “I remember sitting on the other side of the room thinking how much I’d like to get to know you, but you never looked up, at least not at first. But then this song came on and you began to hum the most incredible harmony.”