Fall: a ROCK SOLID romance

by Karina Bliss

  “I can tell you how to get proof,” Zander said. “But you’ll have to go to war. Your opponent won’t surrender until she’s fought to exhaustion.”

  Hope was more than a glimmer now, it was a sunrise. Instinct resonated to the truth in Zander’s words, but Seth made a token effort to be sensible. “Take Dimity on? If it doesn’t work, it will create an even bigger mess.”

  “It’s a winner-takes-all strategy,” Zander admitted. “Is she worth the risk? Or not?”

  What had Dimity told him the night they’d hooked up? That he was a covert rebel. “I’m the only one who sees behind the Mr. Nice Guy facade and wonders what it would be like to let the beast loose.”

  Seth leaned forward. “Tell me your plan.”

  * * *

  Seth was late.

  Again.

  Dimity strode the service alley outside the south LA production studio, her cell pressed to her ear, waiting for the drummer to pick up.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” said his cheerful voice.

  “Wow, you actually answered your phone. I—”

  “Leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

  She growled her frustration. “But you don’t, do you, Seth? For someone who never answers your bloody phone you sure change your greeting a helluva lot. Is it to mess with me? Because that’s what it’s starting to—”

  Beep.

  “Argh!” She kicked the trashcan by the door and the lid bounced off, forcing her to give chase before it rolled into traffic, which took her dark mood into black hole territory.

  Mr. Reliable had become Mr. Random. The first time Seth hadn’t shown up on time, she’d thought the worst. With fingers shaking, she’d been dialing the local hospital when he strolled in eating an ice cream. “I forgot I was meant to be here.”

  “But Moss texted. Jared phoned to see where you were—” The two intermediaries she used to keep her distance.

  “Yeah, I saw their messages when I got out of the water…I went surfing.” He held out the ice cream. “Lick?”

  “No!” She wished she could get over the welling up of grief whenever he treated her as a friend.

  But she was getting over him, she told herself that constantly. And business was looking up. With the help of their lawyers, she and Zee had negotiated a better settlement with the insurers and Zander was in town to sign it. Unofficially, she’d become band manager, becoming official in a couple of weeks when Zee announced his vocals hadn’t recovered. Publicly, he was still going for the pity vote. Privately, he’d only told his most trusted friends the truth—to understandably mixed reactions. Everyone was still processing their feelings on that one.

  Fucking feelings.

  Gently, Dimity replaced the lid on the trashcan, then brushed her palms clean on her pants, remembering too late they were suede. Looked at the smear of dirt on the taupe brushed leather and kicked the trashcan again. Mr. Nice Guy was still ruining her clothes.

  On the second occasion Seth “forgot the time,” Moss said silkily, “Shouldn’t you be bitching at him the way you do me when I skip meetings?” They’d gathered in her office in Zander’s Calabasas house—the one he was now keeping. Her hidey-hole. Moss glanced over her shoulder. “Instead of researching symptoms of early-onset Alzheimer’s?” She slammed her laptop lid shut. “The difference is Seth’s not a habitual offender.”

  He was now. The more correct term was chronic recidivist.

  And any goodwill his bandmates had for him was long gone. She’d tried to tell Seth that last time he’d showed up late to a key strategy meeting, anxiety gnawing at the edges of her temper. He’d laughed off her concerns. And when she’d lost control and yelled, “What the hell is going on with you?” he’d said, “Don’t you know?”

  She’d backed right off.

  “Just promise me you’ll make the session on Thursday.”

  He’d held up his hand, Boy Scout-style. “I promise.”

  Furiously, Dimity rubbed at the suede, using a hanky out of her Gucci handbag and spit. So why the fuck was he thirty minutes late? She rolled her shoulders to loosen them, and returned to the production booth.

  The guys were recording a demo of Jared’s latest composition, Moss on vocals and a couple of session musicians filling in the sound until they repopulated the band. Both Seth and Jared wanted Moss to take over as lead singer; the guitarist was keeping his options open. The session musicians weren’t cheap and neither was the top producer, even with a friends’ discount. Zee had come along to give feedback. The very last thing Dimity needed was her mentor seeing her fail to manage the easiest-going guy on the planet.

  Mustering excuses, she walked into the booth and stopped short.

  On the studio side of the glass partition, Seth sat behind his drum kit, headphones on, tearing it up with the band.

  Zander glanced up from his seat beside the producer, who was fiddling with sliders on the console. “Where’d you get to?”

  “I had to make a phone call, nothing important.”

  Moving to stand behind him, where he couldn’t witness her relief, she reconciled herself to the torture of watching all that crystallized, powerful focus that would never shine on her again. Closing her eyes when she could no longer manage it.

  You can do great things for this band. Deal with it. How many times did she repeat this mantra daily? And she was so lonely she’d even dragged her soft toy Jack Russell out of storage and slept with it.

  The drumbeat lost time with the bass line. Dimity opened her eyes to see Seth thwack his sticks on the cymbals in frustration. Moss stopped mid-lyric, and the other instruments petered out.

  The producer hit the intercom between rooms. “What’s up?”

  Dropping his sticks, Seth stood up from the drum stool. “Let’s call it a day, Greg. I’m just not feeling it.”

  Everyone laughed. Jared readjusted the shoulder strap on his bass guitar. “From the top.”

  “I’m serious.” Seth snagged his plaid shirt from the floor and shrugged it on.

  Zander said through the intercom, “Are you ill?”

  “Nope.”

  “Sprained wrist, sweetie?” Moss asked.

  “Nope. Just not feeling it.” He shot Moss a narrow-eyed stare. “Could be your singing.”

  “I’m not in Zander’s league,” the lead guitarist agreed, so cordially that the hairs on the nape of Dimity’s neck rose. He’d responded to Zee’s secret with uncharacteristic sobriety and everyone was treading very, very carefully around him. “But I believe I’m hitting notes.” He glanced at the producer, who nodded.

  Seth turned to Jared. “Then maybe the song itself is too generic.”

  Its Grammy-nominated composer frowned. “Yesterday you said it was ground-breaking.”

  “Which leads us back to me not feeling it.” Seth looked at Dimity through the glass. “Can I go now, miss?”

  She laughed nervously and bent to the intercom. “Seth, this studio is closed over the Christmas break and these sessions don’t come cheap. Sit down and stop kidding around.”

  “Or what?” he said contemptuously. “You’ll fire me?”

  “I can’t.” She tried to lighten the mood with a joke. “Unfortunately we’re a democracy.”

  “You’ve got my vote,” Moss said, stripping off his guitar. “I’m tired of his bullshit.”

  “Session musicians,” Dimity said brightly. “You don’t need to listen to family squabbles. There’s a great coffee shop across the street. Take a break while we thrash this out… Seth, where are you going?” He was following them out the door.

  “Fishing, probably.”

  “Stay there,” she said sharply, and scooted out of the booth. She met him coming through the studio door, and manhandled him into the room.

  “Get out of my way, Dimity.”

  “No.” She locked the door. “C’mon, guys, we’ve all been under a lot of pressure lately. Tempers are bound to fray. So let’s all take a few minutes and give ourselves a chance to si
mmer down.”

  “Fire him,” Jared said. The bassist Dimity had marketed as Rage’s soulful poet folded his arms, his stance all about aggression. “We have no leeway on this and I have a family to support. Moss, didn’t you say Collision’s drummer is unhappy with his band?”

  “Yeah. Hear that, Seth? You’re replaceable.”

  Shocked, Dimity looked from Moss to Jared. “C’mon guys, where’s your loyalty?”

  “Hey, you’re the one always lecturing about consequences,” Moss reminded her. “And whatever trouble I get into on my own time, at least when we’re working, I work. Right, Zee?”

  “It’s the only way to build a successful, long-term career.”

  “Butt out, Zander,” Seth said. “You have no skin in this game anymore.”

  Dimity gasped.

  “That’s it,” Moss said. “You’ve got my vote. Fire him.”

  “I’d say he’s leaving you no choice,” Zander said.

  This was a nightmare.

  “Fine, if no one wants me in the new band.” All defiance, Seth faced her, holding up his arms in surrender. “Fire me.”

  She shook her head, desperate now. What are you doing? You want this, you need this. “Guys, he’s acting completely out of character. Seth, you can tell us. Have you been taking drugs?”

  “I’m not on drugs. You’re the manager. Fire me.”

  This can’t be happening. “Could someone have spiked your drink last night?” She knew he’d been clubbing with Moss. She’d spent a sleepless night worried he might take someone home.

  He glowered at her. “Get this over with, Dimity. The band always comes first, remember?”

  “What about medication for an allergy? Are you taking anything new? Could this be an adverse reaction?” Her eyes pleaded with him. Help me here. I’m trying to save you.

  Seth shoved the mike stand and it hit the floor with a crash. Everyone jumped. “Will you fire me now?” he said curiously.

  “Fire him,” barked Moss, a call echoed by Jared. She threw the bassist a betrayed look. In a second honeymoon phase with Kayla, Jared had been generous in his acceptance of Zee’s decision. What happened to peace on earth and goodwill to all men?

  “It’s for the good of the band,” Zander said impatiently. “What are you waiting for?”

  For the guy I love to come to his senses.

  “Fire me.” Seth picked up Moss’s guitar and its owner started forward. “Just joking.” Replacing the guitar on its stand, Seth turned and kicked a hole through his bass drum. Looked over his shoulder at her. “Will you fire me now?”

  “Stop,” she whispered, brokenly. “Please, please stop.”

  He smiled at her. Crossing the room in three strides, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her like no one was watching, a raw, toe-curling onslaught that left her teetering on her stilettos. Carefully, he steadied her on her feet.

  “Forgive me for playing dirty,” he said huskily. “But I had to win.”

  And she got it.

  “You son of a bitch.” He ducked as she swung for him. “You played me?”

  “How else could I confirm you loved me? You sure as hell would never admit it.”

  “I’m not admitting it now!”

  Moss and Jared were smiling, so were Zander and the producer. She swung around to glare and each and every one of them, and they stopped. “Were you in on this?”

  “Save yourselves,” Zee advised, and they were all gone within five seconds.

  “Why are you still here?” She poked Seth in the chest, but he didn’t budge. “You’re the one I want to kill most.”

  “I’m working out your sexual fantasy.”

  She gasped. “Get. Out. Now. Or I’ll destroy the rest of your drum kit.”

  He knelt. Head bowed, he said, “I’m sorry. Even sorrier I was a nice guy and let you torture us for weeks. I should have forced you to admit how you felt about me in the barn.”

  “I admit nothing.” Suddenly, she felt like Marie Antoinette facing the guillotine.

  Seth was still on his knees. “I’ll get a makeover. You can dye my hair blond, throw out all my plaid shirts, whatever it takes for you to give us a shot.”

  Her throat tightened. “I don’t want you to have a makeover.”

  He caught her hands, his blue eyes utterly sincere. “You know what I love about you? You’re beautiful.”

  “That’s not love, Seth, it’s lust.” She tried to free her hands. He raised them to his lips.

  “Beautiful, Dimity, all the way through.”

  The sad, lonely, yearning part of her that she hid away for safekeeping slipped its shackles and stretched toward the light. Her eyes filled with angry tears. “Dammit, don’t say that. Not unless you mean it.”

  “I do mean it. You’re bluster and fury and always the first to help the people you care about. You don’t suffer fools, but once you admit someone to your inner circle, you let them get away with murder. Maybe that’s why you resist letting people get close. Even when you think yourself weak, you’re the strongest person I know.”

  “You want me to tell you I love you. Fine, I love you.” She broke his hold and flung away from him. “But I’m not happy about it. You effectively tricked me into it…using Mel and your niceness as some kind of Trojan horse.”

  He was trying to hide a smile as he got to his feet.

  “You won’t be so happy when I screw this up,” she said scathingly. “Because I will.”

  “So will I, screwing up is a normal part of relationships.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, and he cut her off. “Don’t bother giving me that bullshit about being missing the intimacy gene, and only being good at business. I won’t buy it, and you need to return that bunch of goods to the store that sold it to you, because you’re not bringing it into our marriage.”

  “What?” She stopped breathing. The beckoning light was bright now, almost too bright. Was she dying?

  “Did I miss that part?” Seth said casually. “We’re skipping the months where every time we fight like regular couples you decide you’re hopeless at intimacy and try to break up with me. I’m not fucking going through this misery again. If we have a legally binding contract, you’re more likely to think twice.”

  She sucked in air. “You can’t be serious.” The lack of oxygen had made her dizzy.

  “I’m completely serious. No one works harder than you once you’ve made a commitment. But you won’t have to work hard. We fit, Dimity, as colleagues, as friends, as lovers—right down to each having a parent who drives us crazy. You march to the beat of your own drum. Who better to keep time than your own personal drummer boy?”

  Another breath, and another. She wanted so badly to live. She recalled her awe when Zee had started spilling his guts to Elizabeth. So that’s how you jump off a cliff. Closed her eyes.

  “I surrender.” Her whisper was barely audible.

  And because Seth was a nice guy he didn’t ask her to repeat it, simply gathered her into his arms, where she belonged, and kissed her like a badass. Why hadn’t she realized he was as complicated as she was? Because people were never one thing, but many.

  Elizabeth’s book was about a rock god making all the mistakes in his poignant attempts to become human, attempting his toughest reinvention of all—working from the inside out. That was what had made her cry, because she couldn’t follow Zee on that journey. It took the kind of courage she simply didn’t have.

  I was wrong. I do have the courage to be loved.

  A great relief welled up inside her. “I love you and I’m ju—ju—just so happy.” She began to sob, and Seth murmured soft nonsense as he kissed every one of the tears away, not asking why she was crying because he got it. He got her.

  She tensed as she heard the other guys returning, horribly conscious that she was disheveled, thoroughly kissed and bawling. Frantically, she clutched Seth’s plaid shirt. “Don’t let anyone see me like this.”

  His arms tightened, and she f
elt his smile against her hair as he kicked the door closed. “Honey B, I’ve got your back.”

  ENDS

  Thanks for reading FALL, the third in my Rock Solid Romance series. If you enjoyed it, sign up to my newsletter at www.karinabliss.com and receive a bonus scene with all the band members of Rage as they celebrate Christmas rock-star style.

  If you’d like to leave a review go here: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/28230419-fall

  Have you read the other books in the Rock Solid series? Take a look…

  RISE

  Acclaimed literary biographer Elizabeth Winston writes about long-dead heroes.

  So bad-boy rock icon Zander Freedman couldn’t possibly tempt her to write his memoir.

  Except the man is a mass of fascinating contradictions—manipulative, honest, gifted, charismatic and morally ambiguous. In short, everything she seeks in a biography subject. When in her life will she get another chance to work with a living legend?

  But saying yes to one temptation soon leads to another. Suddenly she’s having heated fantasies about her subject, fantasies this blue-eyed devil is only too willing to stoke. She thought self-control was in her DNA; after all, she grew up a minister’s daughter.

  She thought wrong.

  Click here to read an excerpt and find buy links.

  PLAY

  Rock star Jared Walker is within reach of career glory…but his marriage is in the pits. Determined to save it, he talks his wife into holiday dates with only one rule: they must pretend they are strangers. But when he discovers what Kayla really wants for Christmas, will he be able to give it to her?

  PLAY is a 30,000 novella and is one of five stories in YOU HAD ME AT CHRISTMAS, a holiday anthology with Molly O’Keefe, Stephanie Doyle, Jennifer Lohmann and Laura Florand.