Whole Lotta Love: Rock Star Hearts - Book #1

by Amity Cross

  Sebastian frowned at me. “You’re not bothered by it?”

  “Depends what they were saying. It can vary.”

  He snorted. “Some guy named Robbo made a bet with his mates that he could bag you before summer rolls around.”

  “What?” I blinked. That was a new one.

  “Say the word and I’ll make sure—”

  “Ugh,” I declared, cutting him off. “If that arsewipe comes near me, I’ll rip his balls off.”

  “Ouch.”

  I sighed and dug my fingers into the sand. Well, our walk had taken a turn. Either he’d just realised I was a freak, or he wanted to look out for me. The first was more plausible than the second.

  “Why are you still here?” I asked, studying his profile. “I know you said... I guess I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

  “No one talks with me like this,” he replied. “Like I’m just a regular guy. It’s always...” I nodded, understanding without him having to say the words. “An illusion.”

  Sebastian pushed to his feet, dusted the sand off his arse, then held out his hand towards me. Staring up at him, I almost hesitated. Last time, he was just a stranger on the beach, but now I felt like I knew him a little. Not the Sebastian that fronted a rock band, but Sebastian, and I kinda liked him a whole lot.

  So this time, I put my hand in his.

  He smiled as he pulled me up, his touch burning into my flesh. His fingertips were rough, probably calloused from playing guitar, and I could feel the strength he held in all those muscles. From the look in his eyes, I weighed nothing and everything all at once.

  He held onto me for a little longer than he needed before he let his fingers slip away from mine.

  “Cool,” he murmured.

  “Cool?”

  “Yeah.” His lips curved upward and my heart fluttered. “Cool.”

  6

  Juniper

  Everything was spinning. Spinning, fluttering, and juicing up. Big time.

  Sebastian and I had parted on the beach, and it was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other so I could make it back to the Page Break Bookshop in one piece.

  I’d never met someone so electric. He was all over the place, but I could see the depth in his heart. He hadn’t tried to hide who he was, which made me wonder if this was a test. Real seemed to be something he craved beyond all else. I understood, but why was a guy like him unsatisfied with life? It was a real mind-bender.

  I was falling for the guy in an annoying insta-love kind of way and it didn’t make any sense. I didn’t know him, I didn’t understand him, and I certainly didn’t know if I could trust him.

  Love isn’t supposed to make sense, Juniper. My mum’s words came back to me like a punch in the gut. She should know—she died of a broken heart and her philosophy made the least sense of all.

  Finally, I pushed through the front door of the shop and Vanessa shot to her feet, an expectant look on her face.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “I need to go upstairs,” I fired back as I strode past the counter.

  “Hey! I need to have my curiosity scratched!”

  So did I. Darting between the music and self-help shelves, I leaned over the bannister. “You can go home if you want.”

  Her mouth fell open in shock. “You’re closing the shop?” I never closed the shop, not even when a storm was raging outside. It was only one p.m. for crying out loud.

  “Let’s face it, Ness, no one’s coming in. No one at all.” I held up my hands in defeat, then took the stairs two at at time. Ziggy raced behind me, his claws clacking on the floorboards.

  “He’s staying at your house tonight!” Vanessa yelled. “Oh, and I’ll lock up the shop. Thanks Vanessa.” She imitated my voice and I chuckled.

  I opened the door to my apartment and the little dog zoomed through the opening and leapt onto the couch just as my phone buzzed in my pocket.

  It was a text from Vanessa. Debriefing tomorrow.

  I let out a frustrated cry and began pacing back and forth. Ziggy watched me with his big brown eyes, his head tilting from one side to the other.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” I cried.

  He licked his lips.

  “I know, I know.” I threw my hands into the air. “I’m agonising over a guy I’ve only just met. Doesn’t help that he’s meant to be this famous fucking rock star. In what world is that a reality?”

  Ziggy barked, his tail thumping on the couch.

  “You’re no help, you know that,” I said to the little dog. “You just know you get the special mincemeat for tea when you stay over.”

  I flopped down next to him and fisted my hands in my hair. “He’s got me all worked up,” I told the dog. “He probably does that to everyone, right? I wish I didn’t know who he was, then this wouldn’t be so hard. You know musicians are bad news.”

  Ziggy rested his chin on my knee.

  “He’ll leave eventually,” I whispered. “They all do.”

  Maybe he won’t, a little voice said in the back of my mind. Stupid hope.

  Looking at my laptop on the coffee table, my palms began to itch. What was the harm? A little Google here, a little Google there, and I’d have a better picture of the mysterious Sebastian Hale.

  I glanced at Ziggy. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

  Snatching up the computer, I set it on my lap and opened it. I typed ‘Sebastian Hale’ into the search engine and thumped my finger on the enter key. The screen changed, listing the millions of hits his name returned. There he was in all his broody glory and I couldn’t look away. I’d been truly sucked into the vortex.

  Switching over to the image results, I peered at him with greedy eyes. There he was on red carpet after red carpet, on stage with his guitar, some promotional photos of the band, and the inevitable paparazzi photos with a string of women on his arm. A blonde in that one, a brunette in another, an actress on his arm at some awards show, a leggy model at a film premiere, a Hollywood heavyweight at the fucking Oscars—the list went on.

  Sebastian Hale is an Australian singer/songwriter and guitarist. He is best known as the front man of rock band, Beneath. Hale has received multiple awards for his work with Beneath, including seven Grammy nominations... The rest of his bio was cut off.

  Below that was his date of birth and net worth, which made my eyes water. He was barely thirty, successful, and rich up to his eyeballs. There was a line of video results—all music clips—and then images and articles. There he was with his bandmates, in a fashion shoot, some paparazzi shots at an airport, and red carpet events with a string of beautiful women on his arm. One was more prominent than the others, and morbid curiosity won out. I clicked on an image and her name came up. Mallory Grigorio.

  Mallory Grigorio, American pop star, model, and aspiring actress. Everyone knew who she was—even I’d heard her name and I didn’t even turn on the fucking radio. She was beautiful, perfect, rich, and powerful. That was Sebastian Hale’s on and off again girlfriend. The love of his life. The next ultimate power couple of the music world.

  It was the perfect story, really. The sultry pop princess tames the wild rock star.

  Scoffing, I shook my head. Maybe when Sebastian said he thought I was gorgeous, he meant in a little sister kind of way. Like, you’re so gorgeous, you’re cute as a button. Besides, awesome was something you called friends, not someone you were romantically interested in. I bet he didn’t call the women he liked to fuck awesome. I especially bet he didn’t call Mallory Grigorio awesome.

  I stared at her photo, studying her long legs, her glittery dress, her perfect makeup, her luxurious chestnut hair, and felt like a lump of coal. Their fans even had a bloody name for them: Sebory. Ugh, it sounded like a luxury Italian fashion brand, the kind with ten-thousand-dollar handbags.

  Amongst all of these things—his fame, success, and string of wild romances—I was nothing. I was on the verge of losing everything and here he was, runni
ng away from love, money, fame, and the world.

  On the outside, Sebastian had everything. He led this charmed life where he was talented, famous, rich, and loved. Why would he want to leave that? Was it really that empty? He got to write his own songs, play to people all over the world, travel to places I’ve only ever dreamed of, and never had to worry about how he was going to pay his bills.

  People like that just didn’t wake up and decide to throw away everything they’d worked so hard for. Not when there were so many people dying for their big break.

  Something else was going on.

  Digging deeper, my pulse began to race as I found out more about the man who I had run into on the beach. It’d only been a few days, but he’d already left a mark.

  Beneath was a four-piece rock band that’d formed out of the western suburbs of Melbourne. They’d been an overnight sensation, their first song blowing up big time. Everything they put out raced up the charts and they made an art out of stealing hearts all over the world. Their fans were a legion, their tours were sold out, their albums reached the top of the charts, but they also had a darker side.

  Notorious for leading the cliché rock ‘n’ roll lifestyle, they were no strangers to scandal. Assault charges, trashed hotel rooms, altercations with the media, sexual harassment suits, groupies for days and days, alcohol- and drug-fuelled parties... the list went on. Even with all the negative press, the bad boys of rock could do no wrong in their fans’ eyes.

  This was the band Sebastian fronted, but it wasn’t the man I’d met on the beach. Or was it?

  Doubt clouded my mind and I began to fret. Was I falling for the wrong guy? I threaded my fingers through the wiry hair around Ziggy’s neck, glad the little Jack Russell was staying over tonight.

  “Why didn’t you stop me?” I asked him. “I was really starting to like the guy and I just had to go and internet stalk him.”

  Ziggy rolled onto his side and I patted his belly.

  I thought about all the things I’d found out about Sebastian—his music, the violent altercations, the way he treated groupies, his string of glamorous girlfriends—and couldn’t match him to the guy I’d walked with on the beach. A guy like that, in a place like this? It didn’t mesh. What was he doing in Point Mambie?

  “I need to get out of here.” I closed the laptop with a sigh. “Wanna go for a walk, Zig?”

  The little dog raised his head, his tail thumping on the couch. Of course he did.

  Maybe Sebastian was on the right track when he said he was envious of the dog. I was starting to feel the same way.

  The next day, Vanessa followed me around the shop with Ziggy on her heels. It was like a fucked up conga line. When she stepped on my heel for the third time, I’d had enough.

  “Will you stop following me?” I exclaimed.

  Ziggy yipped, sat up on his arse, and waved his paws in the air.

  “You Googled him, didn’t you?” Vanessa accused me.

  My scowl intensified. “Is that what this is about?”

  “How much of that stuff do you think is absolute bullshit?”

  I shrugged.

  “He likes you.”

  “It’s impossible,” I said. “He’s a rock star with a hot girlfriend.”

  “A hot on-again, off-again girlfriend,” she noted. “I don’t see her here, do you?”

  “But—”

  “No buts, Juniper!”

  “Do you know who Beneath are?” I demanded as we made it back to the front counter. “Do you know what they get up to?”

  Vanessa blinked at me, lost for words for the first time in her life. Turning to the pile of envelopes and books, she ignored me and began packaging the books sold on eBay.

  “Let me fill you in,” I went on, “they trash hotel rooms, they get high, they get unsanitary tattoos, they fuck everything that walks, they get drunk out of their minds, they put people in hospital... They’re the bad guys.”

  “Sebastian didn’t seem that bad if you ask me.” She pouted and shoved another book into a padded envelope.

  “I can’t do it,” I said. “I can’t be like...” I let the thought die on my tongue.

  “Sounds like excuses to me.”

  “I’m not... I—”

  “You said it yourself, it’s a persona. An act. Is that who he really is, or is it for his record label?” She suggestively licked a stamp and slapped it onto the envelope. “Don’t let Google cloud your judgement.”

  What was I doing? I was exactly like my mother. Quick to love, quick to fall, quick to give up everything on a slim chance. Quick to believe the fantasy. Vanessa was right, but if I let Sebastian in and he...

  “Shit,” Vanessa cursed, reading the fear in my expression. “Just because he’s a musician, doesn’t mean he’s like your dad.”

  “I know.” My shoulders sank. “It’s just his life is so different from mine. He’s like a ten and I’m a one.”

  “One being the best.”

  “Vanessa.”

  “Do you have his number?”

  I shook my head. “That’s bad, right? I’m available, but I have no way to reach him.”

  “I have a feeling he’ll be back.” Vanessa smiled, a naughty glint in her eyes. “Sooner rather than later.”

  7

  Sebastian

  The ocean was calm today and the sky was showing signs of blue—a clearing storm.

  I breathed in the crisp air, the tang of salt sticking to my lips, and thought about Juniper.

  It was lonely out on the deck of the beach house, and as I watched a gang of seagulls wheeling overhead, I did my best to absorb the calmness of nature. It was so different being up here on my own without the constant noise of the city, the roar of a crowd, the snap of a camera lens, the screams of an excited fan. Out here I felt small. Insignificant. Like a regular guy who was attracted to a bright spark in the middle of his darkest hour.

  I was buzzing from my encounter with Juniper. So much so, that when my phone rang, I picked it up.

  The last thing I wanted to do was reconnect with the outside world, but she had me all hot and bothered. It’d been years since I’d met anyone remotely like her. So completely unimpressed by my rock star status, my looks, or my money. She spoke to me like a friend, a confidant, a—

  “Seb.”

  I tensed when I heard Josh’s voice.

  “Seb, that better be you, arsehole.”

  He was my best friend. We’d gone to Uni together, dropped out of Uni together, gotten into trouble together more times that I could count, had each other’s backs through thick and thin—he was the brother I’d never had. I could trust him, right?

  “There’s someone here,” I began, not knowing how to explain it. “She might be able to help me.”

  “She?”

  “Juniper.”

  “Juniper? What kind of hippie name is that? She a new age therapist or some shit? You coming back with a bag full of crystals?”

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, stilling the annoyance at the dismissive tone in his voice. “She’s just a woman I met. She doesn’t know who I am or what I’ve done. She can help me.”

  “Help you with what? You’ve got everything you need, man—money, fame, sex. Shit, you’re doing what you love for a living and killing it. We all are.”

  “Yeah...”

  I was beginning to feel bad for wanting something else out of life. I had more than most people, but that was the thing. I craved the days we were playing pubs and small venues across Melbourne, selling CDs for five bucks a pop that our drummer Damon had copied on his computer. The artwork was stencil graffiti a mate had done, which we just photocopied, and the title was scrawled on the disc in Sharpie. It was about the music and the rush of being on stage. We got paid in beer and applause and that was all we’d needed. That all changed the day Vix had walked into that gig at Cherry Bar and waved a million-dollar cheque under our noses. Now those crappy CDs were worth thousands on eBay.

  “Let
me get this straight,” Josh said, “you disappeared in the middle of the fucking night, didn’t leave a note, made us think you were ODing in a gutter someplace, then resurface only to start spouting off shit about some hippie chick who’s going to save you? Do you know how that sounds? You blew us off over a bit of psychedelic pussy.”

  “No, I didn’t.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. Why the fuck did I tell him about Juniper?

  “Sure sounds like it,” he drawled.

  “It’s not about that,” I fired back, the familiar feeling of rage rising in my gut. That hot, uncontrollable burst of raw energy, designed to obliterate everything in its path.

  “Then what is it about?”

  I gritted my teeth and paced back and forth along the deck, wondering if the best thing for everyone would be to hurl myself off the edge. Stopping, I looked over the railing. It was forty feet straight down onto solid rock. Bad idea.

  Josh wasn’t impressed by my lack of responce. “They’ll find you eventually, and when they do...”

  He didn’t have to finish for me to get it. I didn’t have to worry about the label so much as the media. The vultures would descend and tear everything apart. They’d sift through Juniper’s life and publish every detail, no matter how small, and blow it out of proportion—they’d even make it up if they had to—all to sell magazines.

  I should know. Apparently, I’d done just about everything in the name of shock value, even shit I’d never knew was possible. Google me and you’d get one hell of a fictional fucking novel.

  Point was, if I cared about this woman—who I hardly knew—I’d leave her alone and go back and face the music.

  “Seb, you have to come back,” Josh went on. “The album’s done. The label wants to set a release date and book a tour. If you’re not here—”

  “They can’t do anything without me,” I snapped.

  “Dude, everyone’s replaceable. Everyone.”