Rock My World

by Masters, Cate

  “Are you saying Rex threatened you?” A little thrill ran up her back and tickled the hairs on her neck.

  Sterling shuffled his feet. “Not directly. But it was implied.”

  A laugh burst out. How very un-incriminating. “Implied how?”

  “Oh for God’s sake, Cynthia. Did you not understand the part about me not telling you?”

  She tried to connect the dots. An agreement. A threat. A… payoff? She gasped. “He bribed you. That’s why you dropped your demands.” Now the flowers and note made sense.

  Sterling’s expression turned sickly. “It was not a bribe.”

  Right, because her ex was so honorable. “Then what do you call it?”

  He gulped, and his face smoothed. “Like I said, an agreement.”

  One involving money. Well, if Sterling hadn’t proved how low he could go before, he sure had now. “Get whatever you need and don’t come back. I’m changing the locks.”

  He held up a hand. “Don’t bother.”

  Interesting. “Let me guess, it’s part of the agreement.”

  He resumed dragging the golf bag. “I’ll be gone in a minute.”

  “Fantastic.” Curiosity got the better of her. “So, how much did he pay you?”

  Mid-drag, he rolled his eyes. “Come on, Cynthia.”

  Until now, she never realized how much she hated the way he said her name. Nothing so warm and intimate as when Rex called her Cyn. “How much, Sterling?”

  He pursed his lips, then said, “Fifty grand.”

  Way too much. And so not enough. “Get the hell out of my life once and for all, you bastard.”

  His chuckle had a nasty sound. “Do you two coordinate beforehand?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That’s exactly what Reynolds said.”

  Something inside her did a happy dance, but she let none of her elation show. “Then I hope he also said, go fuck yourself.”

  He grimaced. “Yeah, he did.”

  She hit the button to open the garage door and gestured him through. Once he’d crossed the threshold, she sighed. “Guess this is goodbye.”

  He shrugged hopefully. “Unless you need help with marketing.”

  Eyes narrowed in a cold glare, she clicked the button again and stood there until the overhead door had dropped like the final curtain on their marriage, blocking him from sight. Once his car engine revved, and faded away, she inhaled deeply and glanced around at the half-empty shelves. “Never saw this coming.”

  She’d really believed she’d have a happy ever after with Sterling. How strange to think of herself as divorced. Thank goodness she’d kept her own name after marrying, so the transition back to single status wouldn’t be so difficult. At least she got to keep every penny of her business plus the house, everything she owned. So why did she feel lightheaded, like she was about to fall off the edge of a cliff?

  Shake it off. Time to spread your wings and fly on your own, chickie.

  She gave herself a physical shake and went inside. The scent of the flowers hit her before she saw them again. So many emotions rolled through her, she couldn’t decide whether she was angry or flattered. Rex shouldn’t have given money to Sterling. On one hand, it was such a Mr. Darcy thing to do, with no big proclamation or boasting.

  On the other hand, it pissed her off. He had no business intruding like that. She grabbed her cell and called him.

  Cheer gave his baritone a lilt. “Cyn. I’m so glad you called.”

  Her knees almost knocked together. Focus. “Are you?”

  “Of course. I know what a terrible time you must be going through. I didn’t expect to hear from you today, of all days.”

  So sweet that he’d remembered, but she wouldn’t let it sway her. “So you didn’t send flowers to provoke me into calling?”

  His laugh had a nervous edge. “Provoke you? No. I—”

  “Or were you so riddled with guilt that you thought a bouquet bought online would relieve your conscience?”

  “Cyn, really—” More serious now.

  “Don’t Cyn me. I know what you did.”

  A pause. “What?”

  “I’m humiliated,” she admitted. “Do you think I can’t hold my own against my husband?” Ex-husband, her conscience reminded her. But had Rex no faith in her?

  “That’s not—”

  “Or did you expect to buy your way into my life? Not a smart move.” Even if it was clever.

  “I wouldn’t—” A sincere declaration.

  She stood her ground. “Good, because if any man tries to manipulate me in any way, I’m done with him.”

  “Does that mean,” he asked, low and teasing, “you’re not done with me?”

  Was she? One conversation with him was all it took for her to tremble like a fever gripped her. “I have to go. Goodbye.” She ended the call before he could say Cyn one more time and remind her how his lips moving on hers sent her over the moon, and how safe—and alive—she felt in his arms.

  You’re home to me, he’d said. She knew exactly what he meant. In spite of the fact she stood in the familiar house she’d spent years filling with everything she loved, she felt homeless.

  *~*~*

  “Cyn.” The word fell flat against the dead air in Rex’s cell. She’d hung up on him. Again. He dropped the phone onto the notepad atop the table, scrubbed his hands through his hair and stared at the cheesy art on the hotel room wall.

  Guess he screwed up royally, again. About time for him to break that damn pattern. Starting with his music. A gut feeling steered him toward the songs he’d been writing for the last few months. Bloody hell, if he didn’t get away from the rut the band kept digging, they’d sink into obscurity. A strong instinct also told him that once he’d taken control of his life’s work, the rest of his life would fall into place as well.

  Who came along for the ride remained to be seen.

  The door to the bathroom swung open and John emerged. With a groan, he tumbled onto the bed. “What city are we in?”

  Rex knew what he meant. “Somewhere in middle America.” Some internal compass kept pointing east, to the small town in central Jersey where Cyn lived. The farther he traveled from there, the more restless he grew. When would he have the chance to get back there and make things right?

  Flipping through the cable channels, Tad spoke so low, he might have been talking to himself. “Same shit, different state.”

  Without opening his eyes, John added, “Same freaking people, seems like.”

  Rex tried not to clench his jaw. “Your fantastic enthusiasm must be contagious.” He strummed a few chords.

  “Will you stop that infernal racket?” John pulled a pillow over his head.

  “Someone’s got to write new material.” He waited for a comeback, a snide comment from any of them.

  Nada. For good reason too. The past few years, the others had slacked off contributing to the writing process, leaving Rex to do the heavy work, then grumbled about the finished songs.

  Erv strolled to the desk and grabbed the hotel menu. “I’m starved. Anyone else want room service?”

  “Caesar salad,” Rex called. “And some fruit, please. Grapes, bananas, whatever.”

  Tad tilted his head toward him. “Man, what the hell happened to you? A whack on the head and now you’re a health nut?”

  “Hey, I’m thirty-nine. If I don’t start taking care of myself now, I’ll end up haggard as Keith Richards.” He glanced up at each of them, the mates he’d shared the last twenty years with. “None of us are young anymore.”

  “We’re rockers, man,” Tad sneered.

  The implication being that Rex should act like one? Fine, he could do that.

  Later, during their concert, he let the grit of being on the road too long, and the frustration of having to play the same shitty songs over and over again, come through in his voice. He swaggered across stage with his guitar like he was making love to it.

  Fans cheered, but most appeared intoxica
ted in one way or another, so their good mood did nothing to lift Rex’s spirits. He decided to make an impact another way. If the audience and the media wanted a stereotyped rock star, that’s what he’d give them. At the end of the last set, he swung his guitar high overhead, and bashed it against the floor.

  Splinters flew into the front rows. Some raised their arms to shield themselves, but stray shards caught one or two people. A girl’s shriek pierced his ears, rising above the general melee. Her long brown hair whirling as she twisted away, hands gripping her head.

  His world ground to a horrifying halt as, in one split second, he imagined her bloodied, blinded, maimed. In what seemed like slow motion, she turned back, her face contorted by a scream, fist pumping. It took another half-second for him to recognize she was cheering. Not so much as a scratch marred her skin.

  Holy fuck. Weak kneed, he stumbled backward, blinking hard. Not hard enough to clear away the insanity before his eyes. Tad pounded his drums, Ervin struck the final chords on the keyboard, and John pumped up the last notes of the song on his guitar.

  Pushing out a breath, Rex took a moment to balance himself, then turned on his heel and strode off. He grew meaner with each step, and slammed a fist on the corridor wall. He didn’t stop in the dressing room. He went straight outside, hailed a cab and went back to the hotel.

  In the room, he paced like a wild animal in a cage. Nothing was right anymore. Everything was fucked up. No one around him recognized that, or maybe they liked it that way. At one point, Rex had accepted chaos and insanity as part of the deal. Now it irked the shit out of him. Time to reshuffle the damn deck and re-deal the cards.

  He sank to the sofa and rubbed his face. Loneliness hit him like a sledge hammer. He’d grown ragged beyond healing. Things had to change, before bitterness ate him up from the inside out. He needed to distance himself from this madness, go someplace where he could write. Think. And discover, once he’d stripped away the black leather and the rocker persona, who the real Rex Reynolds was supposed to be.

  Christ, he needed someone to talk to. Cyn.

  The thought gave him an immediate boost. It felt like forever since he’d last spoken to her, though in reality it was only hours earlier.

  He pulled out his cell, stared at it for about the thousandth time. If he called, would she talk to him? His thumb hovered over her name on the display. He pushed and literally held his breath.

  One ring… two… three. His exhale morphed into a groan. He held the phone away and roared at it, “What the bloody hell!”

  A small voice asked, “Rex?”

  In a flash, he brought the cell to his ear again. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Cyn. Hey.”

  “Hey. Are you all right?”

  He was now. Her voice had the same effect as a long toke on a joint. Everything inside him untwisted. “Yeah, good, fantastic. I was worried about you. Sorry if I woke you.”

  “Sorry I yelled at you earlier.”

  Her soft voice made him want to reach through the phone for her. “No problem. I get that all the time.”

  At her small breath, he imagined the sweet smile that must have lit up her face.

  “I never thanked you for the flowers,” she said. “They’re lovely.”

  “No need to thank me.” He loved to think of the bouquet in her house, their scent an ever-present reminder of how much he cared. “Now come on, tell me what you’ve been up to.”

  “Work’s kept me really busy. Tia and I have been putting in some long hours.”

  He stretched his legs across the coffee table. “Same here.” A chuckle. “More like here, there and everywhere.”

  “You sound tired. Are you getting enough rest?”

  He imagined her propped against her bed pillows, hair tousled. What he wouldn’t give to snuggle up against her warmth. “Never do on the road. So what’s keeping you so busy these days?”

  “We’re launching a new line, so there’s marketing, production, all that boring stuff.”

  “Not boring if you love it.” Her enthusiasm was contagious. He itched to get to work on his songs again.

  “You’re right.”

  The lilt in her tone made his heart swell with an ache. She sounded happy to hear from him. She peppered him with questions about how he was, where he was, was he having a good time. Normally he hated discussing such mundane things, but none of her questions struck him as an interrogation, a mining expedition for some golden nugget to use against him. Nor was she simply making small talk. She genuinely cared about his welfare. Such a blooming change of pace, he found himself laughing. “It’s so good to hear your voice.”

  She sighed. “You too.”

  “Listen, we’re wrapping the tour next month. Do you think… I mean, if you’d like, it would be great to see you.”

  “Oh,” she stammered. “I’m not sure. We have so many events lined up. Interviews, some talk shows, that sort of thing.”

  “Right, I can understand.” Excuses to avoid him. “You’ll be a smash, I’m sure.”

  “Your tour will, too.” An awkward pause. “I better go. Take care of yourself, will you?”

  “Always do. And you. Don’t work too hard.” He didn’t care if his cheerfulness sounded forced. It was.

  After she hung up, he sat still as a stone, but his mind flew in a dozen directions. In the closet hung a few shirts and jackets, but most of his clothes were still in the suitcase. All it took was a crumple and roll and toss into the luggage, and he grabbed his guitar case and was headed out the door.

  As he climbed in a taxi, a thought struck him. A freaking fantastic idea. The perfect way to bridge the gap with Cyn.

  He pulled out his cell and dialed. When the man on the other end answered, he put on his best rock star smile. “Hey, it’s Rex. Thanks for having me awhile back. I hate to ask so soon, but I need another favor. A huge one. And you have to promise to keep it hush hush.”

  Chapter Five

  New York City. Cynthia hadn’t expected to visit again so soon, but she couldn’t turn down another opportunity to appear on Jimmy Kane’s show. She peered up at the tall stone building as the taxi pulled to the curb, then paid the driver and hurried inside and up to the twenty-seventh floor. No sooner had she stepped off the elevator than Kane’s assistant greeted her.

  She smiled at the young man. “Hi again. You’re not waiting for me, are you?”

  He still had the same tight smile as before. “Yes, Ms. Winterspoon. Follow me, please.” He gestured her down an unfamiliar hallway.

  “But isn’t the Green Room that way?” She pointed in the opposite direction.

  Alarmed, the assistant gestured more sharply. “The Green Room is under renovation.”

  “Wonderful!” But she wished they’d called her; she could have brought to life her vision of a cozy, welcoming space.

  A line of uniformed workers wheeled carts past, loaded with willowy flowers and tall ornamental grasses, not the sort of landscaping for inside a business establishment. “Looks like someone’s bringing the outdoors inside.”

  “Yes, for a special, er… event.” The assistant guided her to a door and opened it. “If you could wait in Mr. Kane’s office, I’ll return for you a few minutes before your scheduled slot.”

  She stepped inside the room. Much nicer than the Green Room. Another stiff leather sofa, but photos of Jimmy and past guests lined the walls, and wide windows looked out onto the city.

  “I’d love to share some ideas for the Green Room. Do I have time to peek at it?”

  The young man’s eyes flew wide. “No.” He visibly calmed himself. “I mean, no, there’s no time. I’ll be back for you in a minute.”

  “All right.” She took a seat to show him she’d gotten the message, and so hopefully, he’d calm down.

  As promised, the assistant returned and led her to the stage.

  This time, she bantered with Kane like a pro, determined to show how confident she was about her work. How much she
loved it. And how excited she was about her new projects.

  Kane gave a congenial nod. “Sounds fantastic. Best of luck with it, and thanks for joining us tonight.” He turned to the camera and thanked the audience, too.

  He was signing off, she assumed, and exhaled a long breath. In a few minutes, she’d be offstage, heading home. The show wasn’t nearly as nerve-wracking as she’d thought it would be. Kane had been rather nice, in fact.

  The host slid a sly glance her way. “Before we wrap up, I have a surprise for you.”

  He seemed to be addressing her, and she nearly asked, “For me?”

  Kane went on. “A very special performance from a great guy who has a new song and a new sound I think you’ll love. He’s in a secret, remote location, joining us via satellite. Please give him a hand.” Jimmy clapped toward the large screen on the side stage.

  The house lights dimmed and Rex appeared on the screen. The secret location, apparently, was a field of wildflowers.

  She froze. In their first conversation, he’d asked about her ideal day with the one she loved, and there he sat, in the very place she’d described. An ache filled her. Why was he there without her?

  A charming smile, and he straightened the mic. “This is for the sweet lady I met in the Green Room.”

  The ache deepened. She moved to the edge of the seat and fisted her skirt in her hand. Where was he? Why hadn’t Kane invited Rex here tonight?

  Rex bent his head over the guitar and strummed his electric guitar.

  The song sounded familiar, an adaptation of one of her favorite Wagner symphonies. Rex played skillfully, fingers in a blur as they flew along the frets. The gorgeous melody enraptured Cynthia as the notes built to a crescendo, then morphed into a slow rock song.

  Rex lifted his head and sang:

  Reality’s a lonely place

  When I can’t see your lovely face

  Or hold you in my arms

  Spent my life wandering this world

  Didn’t know how lost I was

  Until I found you