Rock Legend

by Tara Leigh

  Looking at Piper now, I saw a beautifully complicated woman. A shifting kaleidoscope of past and present, darkness hiding within light, and bold, vibrant colors.

  The urge to spend forever staring through the lens she’d finally given me was like a kick in the gut. It took my breath away.

  Piper’s breath ghosted across the skin at the base of my throat, my dick jerking to attention. I slid my hands forward, resting my thumb against Piper’s pulse. Feeling it accelerate. The comforting embrace I’d meant to give became something different, something deeper.

  Piper lifted her chin, her silken hair sliding against my forearms. I bit down on a groan as her eyes met mine. This girl was just…too much. Too much for me to deserve. But damn, I wanted to take her places she’d never been, show her the dark corners of my soul I’d been hiding for a lifetime.

  I drew in a deep breath, feeling it stutter in my throat. “Piper,” I murmured on an exhale, the syllables vibrating with want and warning.

  Her knees edged open and I slipped between them, scooping my hands beneath her ass and bringing her closer. “You feel me?” I asked, meaning more than just the bulge in my jeans.

  Piper gave a shaky nod, pulling back slightly and staring me straight in the face. “I feel you, Landon. But…I want to know you, too.” Her expression tightened. “What happened with us? What made you run off? I want—no, I deserve—an explanation.”

  * * *

  Six years ago

  Jett, Dax, and I were all assembled in Travis’s office, trying to look like we weren’t terrified. Not knowing if he’d called this meeting to announce that he was dropping our band.

  But since it was just the three of us in the room, a new fear was gnawing at my belly—that our manager had managed to convince Shane to pursue a solo career and we’d all been screwed out of our lead singer.

  Then again, Shane was fucking up a lot lately. We all partied too much, but Shane had taken it to a new level. Maybe Travis wanted us to find a new front man.

  Either option was fucking bullshit and I sure as hell wasn’t buying it. Shane and I had been together for years already and things had jelled once we’d linked up with Jett and Dax. Our bookings were getting bigger, our songs better.

  So why the hell had we been called into the principal’s office?

  I was the first to bite the bullet. “Where’s Shane?”

  “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  Sprawled in the uncomfortable chair facing Travis’s desk, I steeled myself for bad news. Trying to lull my nerves into nonchalance. “We’re here. Talk.”

  Travis dragged in a deep breath, exhaling loudly. “I had to bail Shane out of jail last—actually, very early this morning.”

  Whatever I’d been expecting, that wasn’t it. “What the fuck for?”

  “Shane’s been doing more than just drinking himself into a stupor lately. He got caught in a drug bust, but it’s been taken care of. And now Shane’s on his way to where he needs to be.”

  “That all?” Jett piped up.

  I swung my head his way. “That’s not enough for you?” I growled.

  Jett bristled. “Nah, man. I was just worried we were about to be fired or somethin’.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest, giving no sign that I’d been thinking the same thing. Years in foster care had taught me never to show weakness around sharks like Travis. It turned you into bait. “Travis is too smart to fire us. We’re on the verge of breaking out and he knows it.”

  Travis was accustomed to egos even bigger than mine, and his chuckle skated across my skin. “You’re half-right, Landon. Nothing but Trouble is one album—one phenomenal album, mind you—away from the big leagues. If you can focus on your music, to the exclusion of all else, you’ll get there. No doubt.”

  That bitter, churning sensation in my gut ceased, receding in the face of Travis’s prediction. Success. I needed it, craved it. For reasons that went well beyond my own ego.

  “But,” Travis held up a finger, his dark eyes looking from me to Jett to Dax and then back to me again. He pulled out three plane tickets from his desk drawer and held them up. “I’m going to tell you the same thing I told Shane. This is it. Your last chance. Either get on a plane this afternoon, or get out of my office and never come back.”

  There was silence as the three of us looked at the tickets in Travis’s hands, and he looked at us. Dax broke it first. “Where are you sending us?”

  “To a house in the mountains. A cabin, really. That’s where Shane is right now, with medical professionals helping him detox. There’s a recording studio and everything you need to work on your music. And when Shane is able, I want you to start laying down tracks.”

  “You want us to go to a fucking log cabin with our dicks in our hands, waiting for Shane to feel like jamming?” Jett’s face was red. “Why can’t we stay in L.A. and get up there when he—”

  “Because, we’re a fucking band, dickhead,” I lashed out, angry at the situation we were facing.

  Travis dropped the tickets on his desk and steepled his fingers together. “What Landon is trying to say is that you guys are straddling this place between has-beens-that-never-really-were and bona fide rock stars. I want you away from the L.A. scene—and everyone in it. Today.”

  I thought about Piper, the sweet girl I’d met not even two months ago and had barely spent more than a few hours apart from. “But I—”

  Travis lifted his hand. “Save it. I don’t care what girl you were planning to fuck tonight, or where you were going to party. Commit to me and to your band, and this time next year you’ll be taking private planes to sold-out arenas. In a few years, if you don’t like what I have to say, you’ll have enough fuck-you money in the bank to actually say fuck you to me.” He lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug. “But that day is not today.”

  I was committed to Nothing but Trouble, that wasn’t even a question. But it was the promise of fuck-you money that pushed me over the edge. I’d said those two words countless times over the course of my life, but they always came at a cost. Career success was so goddamn close, but along with it came options. Better therapists, cutting-edge treatments. Maybe that fuck-you money could be used to say fuck you to a brain injury. The one I’d caused.

  Maybe the day would come when Jake would smile again. Laugh again.

  Not that I would be there to see it, hear it. I didn’t deserve to breathe the same air as my brother. Not when it was my fault that he’d been deprived of it. Precious minutes without oxygen that resulted in a devastating diagnosis. Jake could have led a charmed life, but I had ruined it.

  I stood, holding my hand out for one of the tickets. “I’m in.”

  Travis lifted a skeptical brow. “All in?”

  “Yeah.” I bit out the word, seething at having my loyalty questioned.

  He extended the ticket with one hand, and an empty palm with the other. “Hand over your phone.”

  “My phone?”

  “You’re either all in or you’re out. I want you focused on Shane’s recovery and focused on your music. You four are going to bond like fucking Boy Scouts until you come up with an album worthy of your talent. That means no calling your dealer, or sexting with your flavor-of-the-month girlfriend. All in…” He paused. “Or out.”

  I envisioned Piper—the sleepy, blissful look on her face just this morning. And then I imagined Jake, his eyes half focused, a smile that trembled with confusion. I slapped my phone in Travis’s hand. “I’ll keep up my end. You better fucking keep yours.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Piper

  There was a faraway look in Landon’s eyes, as if my simple question had him deep in thought.

  Of course, it hadn’t been a simple question.

  There must have been a reason Landon had disappeared back then, a reason he didn’t want to share.

  But, why?

  Why, why, why?

  It shouldn’t bother me so much, not after all
this time.

  But damn it, it still did. Like an itch between my shoulder blades, one I couldn’t reach.

  There hadn’t been any drama between us. For nearly two months, Landon and I had been practically inseparable. My freshman roommate had all but moved out by the end of the second semester. Landon spent nearly every night with me, our bodies fitted together in a twin-sized bed, not needing or wanting to be separated by even an inch. And then he was just…gone.

  No note. No phone call. Gone.

  I would have freaked out, believing he’d been kidnapped or murdered or worse, if I hadn’t seen the press release announcing that Nothing but Trouble was going off to record a new album. For the next few months, there was a lot of buzz around their supposed seclusion to work on a top-secret new album. Rumors swirled around high-profile collaborations with some of the hottest musicians in the industry.

  I can trace my interest in PR to that summer. I was so hungry for news about Landon that I followed every bit of information there was to find, all of it tracing back to Travis Taggert & Associates.

  My bones aching with loneliness, the three-and-a-half-foot width of my mattress might as well have been a mile. At night, I imagined barging into Travis’s office and demanding to be taken to wherever he was keeping Landon hostage.

  Instead, I watched from the sidelines as Travis built up interest in Nothing but Trouble, taking them from a crowd favorite at gritty downtown L.A. clubs to a band capable of opening for a sold-out international tour.

  By the time I was in my senior year, Nothing but Trouble was sitting at the top of every chart and headlining their own tours. Their photographs were in gossip magazines and on the bedroom walls of teenaged girls. When an opening for an internship at Taggert’s agency was posted through UCLA’s career office, I applied on a lark, never expecting that I’d actually get the job. But I did, and almost turned it down.

  Then I thought, why give up the most sought-after opportunity among every communications major in the entire school?

  Screw Landon Cox.

  I’d given him my heart and he left it behind.

  I’d worked my ass off in school and had ambition to spare—why should I turn down my dream job for a guy who didn’t deserve a single sacrifice from me?

  It was bad enough that I’d chosen my major because of a man—my father. And worse that four years of college had taught me nothing about how to effectively communicate with him. Our relationship was as pathetic the day I graduated as it had been the day I left home.

  I took the job, figuring I would deal with Landon if and when necessary—not a minute sooner.

  Nothing but Trouble was hardly Travis’s only client, and I wasn’t assigned anywhere near the band until last year, when I worked with Delaney. There had been a couple of close calls where I nearly ran into Landon backstage, but he was always so surrounded by an entourage of groupies that it was easy to avoid him, especially since he was usually drunk or high. Or both.

  It might have hurt, being so close to him and yet still so far. But Landon Cox, rock star, wasn’t anything like the sweet, struggling musician I’d fallen in love with. Like Landon said himself, he’d become a legend, with the fan club to match.

  Landon the Legend was also an asshole.

  Except when I saw glimpses of the man I used to know. The man I’d fallen head over heels for. The boyfriend who liked me best without an ounce of makeup on my face. Who didn’t care what I wore, and preferred my hair wild from a night in bed…with him, of course.

  The kind of guy who would croon a country song to a mutt.

  Landon was the only person I’d ever dropped my guard for. I might not have told him all the sordid details about my parents back then, but I didn’t have to be a perfect daughter, flawless cheerleader, popular prom queen with him. I could just be myself, Piper Hastings.

  Not perfect.

  Just Piper.

  Pippa.

  But I hadn’t been enough for him.

  No call. No note. No goodbye.

  Just gone.

  Like I’d meant nothing to him at all.

  The pain of being left behind, completely disregarded…It was soul-crushing.

  I’d never believed there was a person on earth that could make me feel worse about myself than my father, but Landon had.

  If the damage he’d done had been external, no amount of makeup could have concealed the wound. But, lucky me, it was all beneath my skin. Where it had festered for the past six years.

  I became Perfect Piper, 2.0. A college student with a straight-A average and cardboard cutout sorority friends, and later, an ambitious, organized PR associate who never met a client she couldn’t handle or a scandal she couldn’t spin.

  Now, Landon’s hand curled around the back of my neck, pulling me into the hard plane of his chest. He smelled like green grass and dried hay, as if the air from the converted barn at Harmony’s Sanctuary had seeped into his pores.

  But this man was not my sanctuary, no matter what I once thought. I’d been wrong. So damn wrong.

  And I needed to remember how much it hurt to learn that lesson, so I wasn’t tempted to repeat it. If I had to go through that again…I wouldn’t just be hurt. Landon would break me.

  To hell with him and the explanation he wasn’t man enough to give.

  Pushing at Landon’s chest, I slid off the hood of my car. Retrieving my shoes, I tossed them in the back and got behind the wheel barefoot.

  I turned the ignition and fumbled for the button to lower the windows, my fingers stiff with tension. “You coming?”

  Even from inside the car, I heard Landon’s sigh, could feel it vibrating through my chest. For the first time, I wished I’d taken him up on his offer to drive that enormous truck of his. The more space between us, the better.

  Landon opened the door and dropped into the seat, sweatpants stretched tightly across muscular thighs as he folded his legs into the small space.

  In my current mental state, I was torn between wanting to scream at him and wanting to have sex with him. Or maybe both.

  Neither. I should do neither.

  Landon wasn’t just my ex. He was my client. I needed to remain professional.

  No easy feat when I’d spent the morning with his hand between my thighs.

  Landon

  “So what is this place?” I dropped the bags from Blue Moon on a bench in the foyer and took in the sprawling one-story adobe house Piper had brought me to.

  “One of Travis’s stash houses.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Trav is running drugs these days?”

  There was a brief twitch of her lips before Piper did something to a panel and the wall in front of us slid open to reveal a massive interior courtyard with freeform pool, outdoor kitchen, and lush landscaping. “Nope, he’s found troublesome celebrities to be much more profitable.”

  I grunted. “I take it you’ve been here before.”

  She nodded. “This place is just half an hour away from the rehab center and I’ve arranged for a therapist to come here for your sessions, starting this afternoon.”

  Out of habit, I walked to the outdoor refrigerator and peered inside. Of the three shelves, one was filled with water, another with an enormous platter of fresh fruit, and the other with half a dozen glass bottles, each bursting with a different bright shade. I read the labels out loud. “Açaí, blueberry, coconut; kale, apple, spinach; mango, turmeric, carrot; pineapple protein—”

  “Water is fine,” Piper interrupted.

  I grabbed two waters and handed one of them to her. “So, how long am I supposed to stay here?”

  “Shouldn’t be more than two to three weeks, give or take. The general contractor overseeing repairs to your home said he would come by tonight to review his progress so far, and to discuss your vision for the scope of the project.” She uncapped her bottle and took a sip, and I was transfixed by the droplet of water that lingered on her upper lip for a second, until she chased it away with a swipe of her p
ink tongue.

  When I realized Piper was looking at me strangely, I asked, “What?”

  “Are you sure you’re up to meeting with him after your physical therapy session?”

  I bristled at the insinuation that I wasn’t. “Of course.”

  “Great, I’m going to go set up my laptop in the office and—”

  I laid my hand on top of hers, reaching for the smile that had captivated fans all over the globe. “No, stay.”

  For just a minute, I really thought it would work. Piper cocked her head to the side, fluttering long lashes that distracted me from noticing the tight smile that had settled on her lips. “Some of us have work to do,” she said, not falling for my ploy.

  I couldn’t help reaching out to pull at a lock of her blonde hair, wrapping it around my finger and closing the distance between us. “There was a time that wouldn’t have stopped you.”

  For a second, Piper’s eyelids blinked closed, those bright blue beams shuttered. But they opened again quickly, blazing with anger. “There was a time you would have been worth it.”

  In surprise, I released my grip and let her go.

  Earlier, Piper had demanded an explanation. And she was right, she deserved one.

  Maybe I needed to finally tell Piper what I’d been holding back from her. Why I left six years ago. Why I hadn’t come back.

  Why I wasn’t worthy of her. Then or now.

  Fuck.

  That familiar fury bubbled up from a place deep within my gut. A toxic, bitter brew, it churned its way throughout my abdomen.

  But that wasn’t what sent the wave of nausea rising up my throat. Shame did that.

  Even though no drug in the world could lessen its impact, I swallowed down a couple of pills anyway. Just in case.

  Leaving my water bottle sweating on the flagstone tile, I went inside and meandered around the unfamiliar house until I found Piper in an impersonal office, plugging her computer’s power cord into an outlet. The hem of another one of her sundresses inching up to display toned thighs, but not enough to expose that delicious ass that had been driving me crazy all damned day. I cleared my throat. “Think I’m about ready to give you that explanation now.”