Twisted Rhythm: A Dark Rockstar Romance (Twisted Rhythm Series Book 1)

by Lexxi Chase

  The weight of judgment pushed on her chest, made heavier by the intense look on Jake’s face and the angry and sullen mood captured within his heated eyes. God, she thought, he’s so incredibly gorgeous. And he’s here, with me, and actually cares what I think. But he didn’t really. At least not on a personal level. She was just one of millions and 0.0000000000001 percent didn’t come anywhere close to representing the whole.

  “You want my honest opinion?” she asked, finding courage within her over-estimation of its worth.

  Jake nodded, curious.

  “I think you guys play off each other. Both of you are exactly what the other wants, I mean in every possible way, especially...”

  She hesitated. Jake cocked his head.

  “Especially sexually. And on a whole bunch of levels you guys enjoy the drama, even the really bad shit, and I think it’s so much harder because it’s all so public, so out there, and everything you do and say is magnified and dissected by millions of people you don’t even know.”

  Jake sighed. He’d heard this all before, in creative variations, in countless magazine and newspaper articles, entertainment blogs, social media, and especially within the numerous Steel Demon fan forums pervading the internet.

  Despite his seeming dejection, Misty continued.

  “And, don’t get pissed, but I think you guys don’t always handle things real well, and I think both of you say and do things that make matters way worse and, who knows, maybe it’s worse ‘cause it’s all so public, but you and Amanda tend to make some really, really bad decisions.”

  “Like her crawlin’ back to Conroy and fuckin’ that lowlife piece of shit, jacked up wannabe,” Jake spat.

  “And you beating her up so bad because of it,” she countered. “And her recent tweet about a stupid showdown. She doesn’t really want a showdown, Jake. You already got her, hands down. Maybe...maybe she’d like to see you kick the shit outa Wade ‘cause it would prove to her you actually do love her.”

  Jake’s eyes widened. Misty squirmed, but continued.

  “You asked for my opinion so please don’t get mad. I honestly think you love Amanda, even if you don’t wanna admit it, even if you don’t even know it.”

  Jake snickered, laughed softly and stood. As she watched him stroll to the fridge and grab another beer, his long brown hair flowing sensually down his shoulders and muscled back, she felt the heat wash over her, as it had backstage when he’d walked into the room, and triply so when, without much preamble, he’d taken her hand and led her confidently to his waiting limo.

  “Want one?” he asked, after taking a long, cool drink himself.

  “Sure.”

  Her mouth was suddenly so dry, her head suddenly so light, spinning crazily with thoughts of him twisting and turning on stage, and she had serious doubts about the acceptability of her opinion and what she’d just said. Jake came over to her, handed her a beer and stepped back. Gazing at her intently with a look she couldn’t discern.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” she said. “I don’t really know you. I don’t know Amanda. My opinion on things isn’t...I mean, who am I?”

  “Who are you?” he snickered, his face clouded, then intense. “Who are you, Misty?” He glided towards her. “Who d’ya wanna be?” he whispered, as he pressed up against her, still standing, running his fingers coolly through her long blonde hair. “Are you my dirty girl?” he crooned, grabbing her hair forcefully, tipping her head so she was forced to look up at him.

  Staring into his ravishing green eyes, half hidden by his soft bangs, she could barely speak. Jake was all she’d wanted for a long, long time. Playing and replaying his music, every album, until the lyrics burned into her heart, until his decadent, powerful voice echoed in her ears and the messages of his songs embedded into her brain. Here he was, looking so much better than in his videos, so much sexier than on stage.

  “I’m your filthy, dirty girl,” she whispered as she ran her hands up his naked body, as she brushed her soft lips gently against his smooth, tight stomach.

  Jake pushed her back firmly on the bed, peeled off her tight, bright pink dress as she quickly undid her bra, pushed down and kicked off her transparent lace panties. She saw he was deliciously hard for her, ready, and melted into his muscular arms as he slid skillfully on top of her, his cock pulsing against her stomach, his raw, savage kisses pinning her to the bed.

  “Wanna taste me?” he whispered.

  Breathless, Misty groped for his cock, first gently stroking and then taking it firmly in her hands. Shifting to the top of the bed so they were more comfortable, Misty devoured him, sucking on him so hard his hips bounced against the mattress and it shook the entire bed.

  “Hey, hey easy!” he grabbed her hair, laughing.

  He didn’t want to cum yet, didn’t want the game to end this way and he was in no mood for multiple shots on goal.

  “Sorry,” she murmured breathlessly. “I got too excited.” And smiled.

  “Nice and slow for a while, huh?” Jake instructed and laid back on the bed.

  Lost in pleasure, he let his mind wander. Misty’s enticing lips, warm mouth and exceptionally skilled tongue gave his dick the workout it deserved. I never settle for second best, he mused, thinking how much he loved blowjobs. This is just what I need, almost as good as Amanda’s.

  “Damn!” he cursed loudly and Misty stopped.

  That bitch had crept into his mind again.

  “Keep going,” he rasped, ignoring the bewildered look on Misty’s face.

  Motioning her back down.

  “Blow me,” he ordered, “until I tell ya to stop.”

  It took him a few minutes to relax and really get into it again. Even as her velvet tongue circled and teased the head of his cock, even as she rhythmically sucked him and then moved lower to lick and skillfully mouth his balls.

  “I’m your dirty, dirty girl,” she whispered, and Jake reached for his cell.

  No time like the present, he smirked, as he jabbed speed dial and leaned back on the bed. Suddenly realizing he’d forgotten to block his number, he fumbled to hang up. But it was too late. Amanda was quicker to the draw. She picked up and answered first ring.

  Chapter 13

  Rachel was frantically ransacking her lingerie drawer, tossing her fanciest bras, hose and panties on the bed when Matt entered the room.

  “You really think you’re gonna need all that?” he looked at her curiously, more than a little perturbed. “Something goin’ on I don’t know about?”

  His stare was cynical, and in her current mood, it struck a nerve within Rachel that, until just recently, she hadn’t even admitted to herself she had.

  “Christ no,” she conceded. “I’m just so sick of dressing and looking like a yuppie housewife. I’ll be in L.A. and I wanna feel like it.”

  Matt crossed the room and picked through the rest of Rachel’s clothing already on the bed, beside her open suitcase. He could barely believe she was doing this. Visiting her sister, even talking to her sister, had never been number one on her to-do list. She’d hardly ever spoken to Amanda on the telephone after she’d left Conroy, had only grudgingly seen her at their mother’s house the handful of times she’d visited, and always asserted Amanda’s house, “Tramp Mistress mansion,” was the last place she’d ever go. Now this.

  “What the hell’s really goin’ on with you Rachel? First the erratic attack on Myer and now this ridiculous trip, with Wade of all people!”

  His voice was rising and he realized his wife wasn’t the only one losing control. He wasn’t acting or feeling like himself at all. Nothing had ever challenged or rocked their conventional relationship. Nothing out of the ordinary, except for Amanda’s outrageous antics which scarcely affected their usual routines, had ever happened in their lives. Now Mark and Jenny had a week’s suspension and Rachel was barred from setting foot within two hundred feet from their school.

  “You have to get ahold of yourself.”

  “Me?” she recoi
led. “What about you? I’m not the one takin’ a dumpster size shit fit over Jenny and Mark’s ludicrous suspension. They don’t goddamn well deserve it. We should get that simpering asswipe Myer fired.”

  Matt snorted, “Are we really going to go there again? Even if we wanted to, thanks to your childish lack of control, you’ve set a great example of our family to the school board.”

  “Whatever.”

  Rachel squeezed by him and flung open the door to her walk-in closet. Jesus, everything I have makes me look like a housewife, and not even a MILF, at that. Cursing despondently, she rifled through her clothes in desperation of finding something that didn’t make her look as ordinary. I’ll never look like Amanda, she huffed, but at least I don’t have to look like a prudish, sterile librarian.

  “Rachel, can you please stop a moment and talk to me?”

  “About what?” she spun to face him.

  “This trip. Why even go for Christsake? And why now?”

  Good question, she thought, but I don’t even have the answer. She’d realized in the last few days she didn’t have answers for much. Not why, even at her worst, Amanda had always outdone her, made her look pitifully lacking, despite her being the only one of the two who truly had it together. Her relationships, her education and even her so realistic expectations. And, Rachel grudgingly told herself, it wasn’t just Amanda’s stunning looks. No, she conceded, there was something extraordinary about her.

  Something elusive and intangible but immensely overpowering nonetheless. Even in heartache, anger, desperation – you name it, from day one Amanda had run the gamut of extreme emotions and dilemmas – Amanda shined like a shooting star. While I flicker and fade out, Rachel stewed. Until Amanda’s current catastrophe, Rachel hadn’t even realized her sister’s persistent superiority bothered her. So why go visit her now?

  Looking at Matt waiting for the same answer, she simply groaned, “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just tired of everything around here and need some sorta vacation, time off.”

  She pointedly neglected to say that, just lately, probably starting around the time of Jake’s notorious tweet picturing himself and a sweating, gagged and bound Amanda, she was growing tired of Conroy, the trials of motherhood, of marriage, of him, and just about everyone and everything else in this stagnant, smothering little town. Maybe deep down she longed to play and tangle and sweat like Jake and her sister, longed to break free of the mundane and ordinary and craved some excitement, and God help her, even danger.

  But even as she thought of it, quietly to herself, she felt her stomach roll. There was more to Amanda and Jake’s fighting this time. More to it than even their infamous final incident. There weren’t many ways things could get much worse, at least not many more ways they could clash and both manage to still stay alive. She shuddered and resumed packing, virtually oblivious to Matt’s ramblings in the background.

  “Are you even listening to me?” he yelled.

  No, she wanted to scream, I’m done listening and doing what I’m told, done playing by the rules and getting nothing but a rose bouquet motherhood award on Valentine’s Day and community commendation for volunteering at the local library. Finished with living my life as a puppet, jerked by everyone else’s morals and rules. Finito with playing the game everyone else’s way and drowning in the uniformity and mediocrity of the masses.

  “I guess,” she mumbled, and Matt stormed from the room.

  “You’ve lost your fucking mind!” he screamed as the bedroom door slammed shut behind him.

  “Yeah, well I’m not the only one,” Rachel murmured as she picked up and dialed her phone.

  Insanity loves company, she mused, as she listened to the rings. Wade answered foggily, obviously jolted from a deep sleep.

  “Shit Rachel, d’ya know what time it is?”

  “Yeah,” she laughed. “I’m still up packing. Just wanna make sure you’re still coming.”

  “Jesus...”

  Wade grudgingly rolled over and swiped his cell. 1:52 a.m. Just wonderful. He had to be up in just over three hours. It was a long ride to Conroy’s nearest airport and check-in was an hour before their flight.

  “Already packed,” he grumbled. “Why you still up?”

  “Matt’s been givin’ me a hard time all day about goin’. Couldn’t get it together till now to pack.”

  Wade stretched drowsily and swept his long bangs from his eyes.

  “Ya stop to think that just maybe Matt’s right?”

  He’d been pretty much in the same boat, fielding objections from Jesse and plenty more of his friends. Especially after Jake’s rant went viral. While there were a few stragglers within his social circle that still urged him on, the vast majority of encouragements came from visitors on his Facebook he didn’t even know. Hundreds of them. All itching for the ultimate showdown. None having any serious clue about the consequences or what that actually meant.

  “Not chickening out, are you?” Rachel whined.

  “Nah, it’s not about that. I’m the one who called Jake out, remember? That arrogant bastard deserves to get the shit kicked outa him but I’m not sure it’s gonna do any good. It’s probably gonna make things a whole lot worse.”

  “Worse?” Rachel flinched. “The only way it could get any worse between them is if he kills her.”

  “Exactly,” Wade said. “Havin’ me around to fuel the fire, take him down, whatever, might just be the final wound that jerks his chain and gives him the fuckin’ excuse.”

  He’d actually been ready to call it quits as he crammed his own suitcase hours earlier. What the fuck am I really going to accomplish, he wondered. Piss Jake off to the max, for sure. Kick his worshipped, conceited rockstar ass, possibly. Get a rise out of Amanda, most definitely. But most likely not the rise he wanted.

  Not like she’s gonna promote me to her brand new knight in shining armor. Not when Jake shows up, hyped from his attendance-record-breaking tour, fueled by the millions of fans cheering in his corner, amped by his ego, driven by his exploding jealousy and rage. All the things that propel Amanda’s juices flowing and ignite explosive sparks between them. All the things that, win or lose, will surely leave me out in the cold.

  Jesse’s words echoed in his ears, you’re a means to an end, buddy. So why in the hell did I finish packing, he wondered. Why the fuck don’t I just tell Rachel now that I’m not gonna go?

  “Crap, Wade. Jake doesn’t need much of an excuse to beat Amanda. He never did. Fuck, her admitting to him she slept with you is more than reason enough. Maybe you bein’ there will actually be what physically stops him from doin’ her in.”

  Wade stirred. Remembered his time with Amanda once more. Not in high school but five years ago at the motel. How vulnerable she’d been. How helpless and lost. This poisonous relationship with Jake was destroying her. He’d helped her then, if only for a night, find strength and belief in who she really was. Maybe, in some way, he could do that for her again. But not from Conroy. Not over Facebook. He’d have to go to L.A.

  “Fine, Rachel,” he said. “Pick me up at six.”

  Despite his forebodings. Despite the raw, expanding fear gnawing at his gut that things were going to get exceptionally ugly this time. That maybe this time there’d be no redemption for Amanda and Jake. No grand slams or precious memories left, he thought, for me to re-live and cling to.

  ***

  “You need anything before I go for a walk?” Katelyn yelled in front of Amanda’s closed bedroom door.

  Despite the late hour, they were both awake. Katelyn, because she was restless, and drowning in mounds of repetitive paperwork and monotonous tasks. Amanda, because it was getting down to the wire. Three days before the debut of her new show. Less than a day before her sister and Wade arrived. Two days before she knew Jake got time off from touring. Two days before he’d show up, ripe for the challenge, hyped and primed to prove and enforce his superiority, impose justified revenge and brutally, evenly, set things right. She turned down th
e music to answer.

  “No, don’t need nothing. I’m good.”

  Sure you are, Katelyn snickered. Just like always, you have things lined up. Perfect and exact. People, like marionettes, twisting to your manipulations and bowing to your schemes. But this was before Jake called. After that, Amanda needed plenty.

  Pausing downstairs at Amanda’s open office door, Katelyn stepped inside. Feeling uneasy, she caved to her sudden inexplicable urge to look around. The large, airy room was neat as a pin, as always. Although light housekeeping was part of Katelyn’s job, the maids came weekly to clean the mansion, keeping it spotless and elegant for when company came.

  Walking by the patio doors centered within the wall of floor to ceiling windows, she looked outside at the familiar night lights surrounding the cat buildings. From her vantage point, she could see only a small portion of one of the outdoor cat pens, dimly lit for the night. No cats were outside tonight however. Amanda had locked them all in their night quarters to keep them calm and well-rested for the upcoming shows. Morocco, Amanda’s favorite tiger, received royal treatment. He was upstairs relaxing with her in the bedroom.

  Passing Amanda’s large oak desk, she paused at the photo prominently displayed on its corner. Of course it was Amanda with Jake, taken in Dubai, during one of their many vacations. She strolled to the bookshelf a few feet behind and absently scanned the varied titles positioned there. Amidst numerous nature and wildlife books, dozens of other animal-related titles and horror and romance paperbacks, something caught her eye. Not because it was unique, but because its spine was tattered and old. She pulled it stealthily off the shelf and gasped.

  How to Get Everything You Ever Wanted and More. She couldn’t believe Amanda still had this. They’d both bought a copy long before leaving Conroy and they’d sat in her own parents’ backyard eagerly writing their personal goals in the book’s self help guide section. Hers had been tame and unambitious compared to Amanda’s and even then, Amanda had aimed for the stars. She leafed to the back and found Amanda’s delicate handwriting.