Say It Strong (Say You Love Me Book 2)

by Virna DePaul

  The strokes on my arm ceased. “Yet you let them into your bed,” she said, not accusingly, just stating a fact.

  “I’m not going to lie.” I leaned my head on her shoulder. “I’ve slept with lots of women, but look…it’s like eating candy every fucking day. Yeah, candy is great and sweet, but it’s completely nutrition-less. After a while, you get sick of it. Your body craves a meal full of vitamins instead of empty calories. You feel me? Your body rejects the junk.” She made no gesture of understanding. No nods, no noises, just silence. “I’m speaking utter horseshit again, aren’t I?”

  “Yes, but I’m starting to understand the language,” she said.

  I scoffed, pretending to be hurt, when really, I loved when she made fun of me. She kept me real. Another reason why she’d be good for me.

  “So you’re calling me a salad,” she said, running thin, strong fingers through my hair.

  Chuckling, I flipped her to face me and searched her dark brown eyes. “I’m calling you a fucking filet mignon. With garlic mashed potatoes, a side of buttery corn, and a sweet cherry wheat beer to polish it all off.” I kissed her. She let me. She understood. Most women would get offended by me calling them a craft beer. “Fuck, now I’m hungry.”

  She burst out laughing. I couldn’t even say how awesome it was to hear her do that so openly, without guarding herself like she had before. I loved this side of her, and I loved that I brought it out of her. I wanted to do it for a long, long time.

  But my brain pushed back the fear. I wanted to think I was strong enough for her. But…there was a major difference between my parents falling in love and me falling for Abby. My folks hadn’t had this life of fame, money, and excess to thwart their efforts and knock them off the straight-and-narrow path.

  I could only hope that if—no, when—the time came for me to fight off temptation, I would be strong enough to handle it. In the meantime, I’d cling to Abby for dear life. If I followed her path, she might just lead me.

  *

  When the sun filtered in through the windows and Tucker’s idiotic face peered into the bunk at us, I knew I shouldn’t have brought Abby into this mess.

  “So,” Tucker began.

  “Tuck, don’t be a dick.” It was Wes’s voice from his bunk across the way.

  “Leave him alone, Tucker,” Corbin’s deep voice warned from somewhere else.

  “I’m not, I’m not…” he assured them. “So, you and Asian Persuasion, huh?” His arms hung on to the top bunk, and his face was shrouded in darkness from sticking it so far up his ass.

  I felt Abby stir awake and curl into me, giving Tucker her back. Good for her. She was learning to ignore him, to let him say his stupid shit without being affected. Once you learned how not to let him under your skin, he was actually not a bad guy.

  “It’s cool. No worries,” he said, nodding. “She’s a little defense mechanism to help you before you see the ex, to ensure you stay away from her, I get it.” He chuckled in the way an evil clown might assault your memories, and I did everything in my power not to let him get to me.

  “You know,” I said carefully, “your face is just within reach of my fist, ol’ buddy.”

  In the background, Wes laughed. “Tell him, bro.”

  Tucker winked at me. “Just kidding, Lee, baby. No need to bring out the claws. I actually like you two. You look real cute. Reminds me of high school again. Hey, Abby, you know your boy here is just a glorified drama goon, right? Ask him to show you pics sometime of his Afro and glasses.”

  “Sounds like a hottie,” Abby said, lifting her chin to kiss me long and slow. And deep. Full make-out. In front of Tucker. I loved this girl’s dark side.

  “SSssszzzzz…” Tucker made a show of shielding his eyes from the sizzling sight, then he walked away, shaking his head. “Man, you guys do not want to go in there and see that shit. I don’t even know who that dude is. It’s like an alien ate Liam and pooped out his ugly remnants. Fucking scary.”

  Abby giggled against my kiss. “I made him go away.”

  “Supremely awesome. You make me proud, girl.”

  *

  In the middle of the parking lot, right by our sleeper bus, Abby stretched her hand out toward mine to keep from letting go. “I had a great night with you, Liam.”

  I pressed her hand against my lips. “Me too, Abby.”

  “Maybe I’ll see you in a few hours?” The way she said it was tinged with doubt, like she knew there might be a chance I’d be busy, like she’d heard about the Vancouver danger through the grapevine.

  After spending the night with Abby, I felt confident there was no danger. That I wouldn’t hurt her. That I had it in me to be the man she needed, the same man I’d always wanted to become.

  “Definitely. Have a great rehearsal, Ab, and don’t forget to practice Serenade, too. Can’t have you not getting into that uppity orchestra all because of that hot guy who’s always distracting you.” I winked at her. She smiled even though I’d called her philharmonic uppity, and I watched her walk away, hips straight, shoulders square, lugging her case with beauty in her purposeful steps. She glanced back once.

  I waved, other hand in my pocket, no shirt, feeling the early morning chill, keeping an eye on her. I was just about to turn into the bus and face the buttload of questions I knew I’d be getting from the guys when Helen beat them to it. Severe lines were etched on her face, and her eyes were glassy and hard. She leaned against the bus, smoking what was probably her tenth cigarette of the morning.

  “I guess you’re serious about her, huh?” she asked.

  “I like her, yeah. Is that a problem?”

  “You know, Liam…” She shook her head and kicked at the asphalt with the toe of her sneaker. “I’ve been with you every step of the way. I knew you when you drove a beat-up Honda with one door missing.”

  “That’s what friends are for. I’ve always been there for you, too. It’s why we let you come along with us.”

  “Oh, you let me come along with you?” Her eyebrows flew up in rage.

  “What? Did I say something wrong? It’s true, isn’t it? You come with us because you’re one of us. We want you here.”

  She scoffed. “Don’t do me any favors, Liam.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about, bro?” I asked, though I was starting suspect.

  “Bro,” she mocked. “God, you’re so clueless, it’s not even funny.” She turned to leave, but I grabbed her arm and spun her around.

  “What am I so clueless about, Helen? Tell me.” If she was going to accuse me of being stupid, I wanted her to at least spell out what it was I was supposed to know.

  She shoved my hand away. “The fact that you have to ask proves that you are. The fact that you can’t, for one second, look at me as anything other than one of your bros is what I’m talking about!” Her tears betrayed her. They spilled, then she did the unthinkable. I saw it coming, though I couldn’t move or prevent it. It was almost as if I deserved it, so I just stood there, allowing her hand to clock back then come forward and slap me hard.

  Thwack! One tight crack.

  “Are you kidding me right now?” I asked, holding on to my stinging cheek.

  “I show you, I give to you, I stand by you.” She was really bawling now, hurt forcing out all her tears. “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to give me a chance.” She was rambling, wiping her eyes, fumbling over words. And drunk, not because she liked to be, but because she was trying not to think of me.

  Tucker burst out of the bus just then, landing on the asphalt like a pack of firecrackers. “Dude, I told her she didn’t want to come here and see things her eyes couldn’t take back, but she didn’t listen. Helen, just fucking tell him already.”

  “Tell me what?” My eyes flitted back and forth between two of my best friends.

  “That if she can’t marry you and have ten thousand of your babies”—Tucker laughed, ringing his arm around Helen—“then she doesn’t want anyone else. Ever.”

>   “Is that true?” I crossed my arms, facing her. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

  “Because a girl shouldn’t have to say it.”

  “Well, I don’t fucking read minds!” I yelled.

  “I think it’s time I leave,” she said, turning to Tucker, who threw his hands in the air and disappeared into the bus.

  “Why?” I said. “You don’t have to go, babe.”

  “There’s no reason for me to stay, babe.” She sniffed, pressing her hands into her face. “The only reason I came along on this year’s tour was to tell you that, to see if anything would develop between us. Last thing I expected was that you’d fall for that”—she gestured in the direction Abby had walked off—“thing.”

  “Her name is Abby.”

  “Whatever her fucking name is!” She stormed off toward her bus, head hanging, and me feeling like I’d bypassed douchebag and gone straight to Motherfucker of the Year.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Abby

  As my infatuation with Liam grew, so did my stress. We were in Vancouver, home of Giselle Vici, last tour’s flame, Goddess of Sex, Bras, and Lingerie. Was I enough to keep Liam from straying? I admitted that a teeny part of me did give him that backstage blow job to show him I could compete, I could be his woman, and he didn’t need a line of groupies out the door to be happy. But most of me did it because I enjoyed it.

  And, oh, did I enjoy it.

  I’d never done that before in exactly that way—slowly, deliberately, taking my sweet time. To be honest, Samuel always climaxed way too quickly, before I could even begin exploring. Maybe it was my fault…because it didn’t happen often. But doing it with Liam felt different—remarkable, so sexy, and I couldn’t wait to get on with learning more with him.

  But for now, there was work to be done.

  During our first rehearsal break, my mother called, which surprised me, since she’d told me before I left NYC that she wouldn’t want to bother me and preferred that I call her instead. Either her patience had failed her, or something was up.

  “Hi, Mom,” I answered, sneaking out of the rehearsal room into the warm sunshine of the venue’s back parking lot.

  “Abby! Have you been following news of the tour?”

  “Ma, I’m on the tour. Why would I be following news if I’m experiencing it? What’s up?”

  “Look at your texts, for crying out loud. Look at them!” my mother said in that special tone that suggested she was going to bust a gasket if I didn’t stop everything I was doing and attend to her matters at once.

  “Okay…hold on. I was rehearsing. Sorry.” I pushed the button to return to the home screen where I could check texts while putting my mom on speaker. Apparently, she had taken a screen shot and sent it, showing a photo of me holding hands with Liam outside his bus. A headline from BuzzNews read: Is Liam Collier Romancing New Mystery Woman?

  There wasn’t much news attached to the photo, just a basic summary of Point Break being on the North American leg of their world tour and questions about this mysterious woman he was recently seen with. Man, news really did travel fast. But it wasn’t an incriminating photo or anything.

  “Ugh, look at my arms.” They looked like two baby redwood tree trunks.

  “That’s what you have to say? About your thick arms?”

  “Did I say they were thick, Ma?”

  My mother mumbled something under her breath. Then, “Abby, you have Samuel here. You don’t need to be gallivanting with that punk boy.”

  “Mom, he’s not a boy. He’s the lead singer of the band and actually very talented. He treats me well, in a way that Samuel never did. Besides, I don’t know how long it will last, but that’s nobody’s business.”

  “It’s everybody’s business now, Abby! Look at that headline. Abby, you need to be discreet. You need to stay focused.” She sighed, regaining control of her emotions. “You have an audition at the end of summer.”

  I kicked a concrete parking curb. “Like I need reminding? Ma, I know what I’m doing.”

  “Be careful what you do and in front of whom. That’s all I am asking.”

  “Yes. I know, but I don’t see the big deal. Especially if I’m having a good time,” I said, to my own surprise. I was having a good time with Liam, was I? Did I mean that in a superficial way, as in I was having a summer fling, or was I developing long-term feelings for Liam? “I have to go now. Stop trolling the Internet, okay? It’ll drive you crazy.”

  “You make me crazy, Abby.”

  I smiled, spotting Rosemary in the doorway waving at me to let me know the break was over. I gave her a thumbs-up. “That’s my job. I love you. I’ll talk to you again soon.”

  “If you gallivant in front of the paparazzi again, wear a different top that doesn’t make your arms look fat, okay, Abby?”

  I said nothing. My mother. God love her. I swear.

  “Abby?”

  Phone in pocket.

  *

  I had no idea Vancouver was so beautiful. The sunset view from our L’Hermitage Hotel room overlooking downtown’s West End and Vancouver Harbor was simply amazing. Because we had the night off, Rosemary wanted to stay in and order room service, but I was restless. I thought about trying to find Liam, though he could, conceivably, be anywhere. It was not a night for staying in.

  Standing at the window, watching the sun go down, I received a text from “unknown.” I knew exactly who it was. He must’ve finally gotten my number from somewhere.

  He wrote: Go for a walk, get a bite to eat?

  How’d you get my number?

  Employee payroll. Yes or no.

  I bounced on the edge of the bed like a little girl before a big party.

  Rosemary glanced over my shoulder. “What’s that smile for? Is that him?”

  “Maybe.” I swiveled to block her and fired back a reply: I only walk and dine with famous rock stars, sorry.

  “God, I still can’t believe you’re fucking Liam Collier,” she said, rosining her bow.

  I reached across the bed and smacked her leg.

  The ellipses indicating a reply came on, making my heart skip. He wrote back: You’re in luck then. ☺ Meet you downstairs in ten?

  Sure.

  “You’re going to dinner with him, aren’t you?” Rosemary clucked her tongue. “Abandoning your best friend for a guy. How typical.”

  “Oh, stop,” I said, checking my hair in the mirror. I grabbed my purse and sweater. “I promise I’ll be back soon.”

  She gave me a wide-eyed look. “If you come back to this room, I will be sorely disappointed. How am I supposed to live vicariously through you if you’re lame? Go have a good time, damn it.”

  I chuckled, smoothing my shirt and pants. “How do I look?” I whirled around to face her. I probably looked ordinary, but the truth was, I hadn’t packed any special dresses or outfits, thinking I wouldn’t be going out that much. Funny how things changed in a matter of a week.

  Rosemary, gorgeous in her own right, tilted her head to examine me. A sisterly glow seeped into her melancholy expression. “Like a woman needing to get away and find love for herself. Good for you, Abby,” she added without any sarcasm whatsoever. She was genuinely happy for me.

  But had I found love? Much less the love of my life? How could she tell? How did I know this wasn’t simply lust or short-lived infatuation? I didn’t have enough experience to perceive the difference, but I knew one thing—Liam made me feel special in a way that Samuel never could in a million years.

  That alone was worth pursuing.

  “Thanks.” I gave Rosemary a short hug then blasted out of the hotel room, headed for the elevator, checking my reflection several times while waiting for it to arrive. It occurred to me then that this would be the first real dinner Liam and I would have together. Though we’d spent the day in Seattle and picked up food at the market, we hadn’t actually sat down to talk much.

  My mother would say that was backward, that I should get to know a man thor
oughly before ever giving up my “gifts,” but I wasn’t ashamed to say that, after being with Samuel, I first wanted to know how my chemistry was with Liam before proceeding. And so far, the chemistry was superb.

  Explosive even.

  Organic.

  Atomic.

  More, please.

  Downstairs, he waited for me beside a column, thumbing through his phone, which he put in his pocket as soon as he saw me. “A vision of beauty.” He wrapped an arm around my waist and kissed my cheek. He wore dark pants, a light blue, button-down shirt unbuttoned at the top, and a dark jacket over it. He was freshly showered, smelled wonderful, and my stomach did backflips, somersaults, and cartwheels.

  “Were you looking at our lovely first photo together?” I asked, nodding toward the phone he’d put back in his pocket.

  “Ah, yes. Was it that obvious?” He shook his head in amusement. “It wasn’t too bad a shot, actually. And you looked beautiful for having just climbed out of bed.” He gave me an arm to link mine around as he led us out the back of the hotel and past doormen who nodded and bid us a pleasant evening.

  “Aren’t people going to recognize you if we go out?” I asked, noticing a few curious looks from hotel guests lounging in the lobby.

  “Maybe, but we’ll walk fast. The restaurant is expecting us. There’s a private room, and Nathan is nearby in case we need him. So let’s go.”

  We walked through the twilight-bathed streets of Vancouver. I felt light on my feet, cautious and vigilant of paparazzi, but happy. Our focus was to get there quickly, not so much conversation at this point, but I also felt like I didn’t need to talk constantly. Walking with Liam was like being with someone I’d known forever, a best friend, and that thought made me smile.

  “Did you practice your piece today?” he asked.

  I loved the fact that he cared this much about my audition. “Yes. Many times. It’s getting much smoother. It’s not an easy composition. Quite complex, but I made it that way on purpose. Needs to be.”