Savaged Dreams: Savaged Illusions Trilogy Book 1

by Jennifer Lyon

  “Not me, my grandmother.” He stuck his head in the fridge and came out with a bunch of deli-wrapped meats and some plastic containers. After shutting the fridge, he dumped everything on the counter and looked around. “Told her I’d buy her a brand-new, fully updated house one day. She didn’t want that.”

  “No?” Why was he so different now than he’d been at practice? Fascinated, she rested against the sink. Oddly enough, the well-loved kitchen made her feel safe. She hadn’t really felt safe…ever. And she’d never lived in a house like this. It reminded her of an old TV sitcom where the worst thing that happened was a burned dinner and a bad grade in school.

  “She was a tough woman with a soft center. This was her home, where she raised her sons, and then me.” His gaze slid back to hers.

  Love for his grandmother blazed in his stare. Raw, unfiltered and so real, it made her ache for him. “I read in your bio that your grandmother passed a year ago.”

  “Yeah. Bad case of pneumonia got her. I’ve been traveling since then. Let the house get ahead of me. She’d be furious about her yard. She loved her flowers, especially in the backyard. Now it’s a mess. I cut the front and back grass, but I don’t know shit about flowers or how to get it all in shape again.”

  On firmer ground, she said, “You cut weeds that choked out the grass. It needs to be dug out and replaced with either seed, sod or drought-resistant landscaping. And the rosebushes need to be pruned back and fed.”

  “You know about gardening?”

  “A little.” While Justice pulled more things out of the fridge, she walked to the back door and looked out the window. Yep, dead yard surrounded by overgrown shrubs and plant corpses that might have once been flowers. “I worked at a nursery and took care of the yard at my aunt’s house.” One day, she’d have her own home. A real one like this. But that took money, so graduating and getting a good job were first on her agenda.

  “Turkey or ham?”

  Crossing to him, she eyed the bread on the plates. “How about I make mine?”

  “Perfect.”

  They worked together for a few minutes, making sandwiches and scooping out deli salads. While he made a second sandwich, she examined the inked skull and clock wrapped in a rose vine that covered his entire upper arm. That tat was very different from the blue jay on his chest. That one had been poignant and soft somehow. And her thoughts were wandering off topic. “So, you wanted to talk to me?”

  He glanced over. “About a couple things, actually. I meant what I said at practice today. I don’t want the other guys cut out of the publicity you do.” Seriousness hardened his features. “This band, it’s the five of us. I don’t mind being the front—hell, I love it. But the band is all of us, and I want to make sure that comes across. Don’t cut them out, Liza.”

  Damn. She liked that fierce loyalty in him. It tugged at the raw, empty place in her. “I’m not going to. But as Simon pointed out, Tangent has to take you as a band if you win.”

  “Yeah, but it doesn’t mean they won’t try something underhanded. I want us to go in strong as a clearly defined group. We need you to help us with that so we have some leverage, or Tangent could keep us languishing for a year by having us open for weak acts on their way out and delay getting an album recorded. Then when the year is up, they may decide they’ll only re-sign me as a solo artist. Or maybe cut me and choose another.”

  He’d thought this through, and it made sense. “After looking at your schedule, I have a few ideas on how I can work in some individual features on the other guys. I’ll show you once I grab my phone.” She’d left it tucked in her camera bag. “What’s the second thing?”

  “Working up to it.”

  For the first time, she caught a flash of uncertainty in him. “Don’t trust me, huh?” Was it a personal issue for him? Or something potentially explosive?

  “No more than you trusted me when I opened the door.”

  “Touché. What are you worried about?”

  “Loyalty. Court of Rock and Tangent are playing games to increase ratings.”

  “And Tangent’s more or less my employer.” Even if she wasn’t getting paid at the moment, she did answer to them. She got the conflict, but she needed the band’s trust to do her job right. Leaning a hip against the counter, she pushed up the sleeves of her cardigan she’d pulled on over her green tank top. “We need to find a way to work together. I’m not reporting every conversation to Tangent. They picked me based on my proposal. Basically I’m a finalist in a contest, and there are now three of us competing to win a summer internship with them. My win is tied to yours. So why would I give them information that they could ultimately use against me to manipulate behind the scenes?”

  He studied her. “Good point.”

  “But you’re still not sure.”

  “I don’t know how you can help. I mean, you don’t have any real experience.” He ran a hand through his hair.

  She had up-close-and-personal experience with bad publicity, but that wasn’t the kind of experience he was referring to. “You’re really worried.” Without thinking, she touched his forearm. “Is it about you?”

  He shook his head. “No, it’s Simon. He was blindsided this morning. It was ugly, and they have it on video. I’m telling you because it’s hard for him to talk about.”

  Liza’s guts clenched. This couldn’t be good, but what got her more was Justice’s deep concern. “I’ll do my best, but someone needs to tell me.”

  He nodded. “Simon was married a few years ago.”

  Stunned, she dropped her hand. “He was? That’s not in anything I’ve read.”

  “Not many people knew. It was before I met him, and a short marriage. Just a few months.”

  “What happened?” How bad was this? God, don’t let Simon have done something awful.

  “Simon was trying to make it as a solo artist at the time, which meant he was traveling and performing all over the country. He came home after a gig and discovered her dead. Suicide.”

  “He found her?” Justice had said that, but she couldn’t imagine the shock and horror of discovering someone you love like that.

  He strode to the window set into the top half of the back door, his back rigid beneath his T-shirt. The tension was so acute she could actually see the outline of his muscles through the cotton fabric. “If this comes out, it’s going to rip a hole in him. Ace, the front man for Jagged Sin, said on tape that she’d done it to get away from him. The show hasn’t aired it yet, but we think they will use that footage. It’s too sensational not to.”

  An accusation like that would rock social media. It had the potential to make a lot of fans hate Simon, and by association, the band. Liza was still trying to get her head around the whole situation. “Why would Ace do that?” It was so cruel.

  “He hates Simon. They have a history, kind of a feud. The show loves that shit. They feed it every chance they get. Until now, Simon ignored Ace. But this…” He shook his head.

  This was exactly the reason she wanted to be a publicist, to help people manage these kinds of horrible, underhanded attacks. The brutal cyber trolls and cruel gossips who twisted facts to feed their sick needs. Her inexperience chafed at her, but she was all they had. Think. “Okay, I need to talk to Simon. The best thing we can do is get out in front of this story, getting control of the narrative before someone else does.” That was pretty much Publicity 101.

  Justice pivoted, frustration bleeding off him. “I don’t know if he’ll do it. Or even if he can do it.”

  “That’s why you told me instead of him.” She took a breath. They needed her to step up and be a publicist. She’d find a way to do this. “It’s my job to handle this. I’ll talk to Simon and see what he’s willing to do. I’ll also see if I can get anything out of Nikki. She’s Jagged Sin’s publicist. Frankly, Ace spouting off something like this could backfire on him in a big way, so she may want to stop that footage from getting out too.”

  His shoulders relaxed slightly. �
�That’s something.”

  “Let me worry about this, Justice.”

  He crossed to her. “You’re a surprise, Liza. All that happened this morning, and then the producer dropped the news that we weren’t getting an experienced publicist.”

  Now it made sense why he was angry when she walked in. Trying to ease him, she said, “Instead you got a student whose only experience is taking selfies.”

  His mouth quirked. “And who doesn’t even like rock stars.”

  That pulled a smile from her. “I may be changing my mind on that.” Realizing how that might sound, she flushed and added, “I mean as a friend or coworker. Not…”

  “Like a groupie?”

  The teasing note in his voice broke the tension and relieved her. “Exactly.” She’d never get so caught up in a man or band that she lost sight of everything else that mattered.

  * * *

  Justice grabbed a couple water bottles, returned to the dining room and dropped into his seat at the end of the table. “Are you cold? I can shut the front door.”

  “No, why?” She fiddled with her phone, ignoring her sandwich.

  “You haven’t taken your sweater off.” He’d left the door open to keep her from feeling trapped. He’d been surprised by her reluctance to come in, then felt like an ass. He’d gotten too used to groupies seeking him out, pushing to get inside his hotel rooms. Been awhile since he’d encountered a woman with a little more self-preservation instincts.

  But the sweater bugged him.

  She shrugged. “I’m fine.”

  “You look different with your hair down.” Her wild curls of rich brown streaked with red entranced him. The urge to touch it grew by the minute.

  She jerked her gaze up from the phone, one hand touching a lock. “It’s a pain. I didn’t have time to straighten it.”

  Her green eyes magnified by her glasses were stunning. Why hadn’t he noticed them earlier? “I like your wild hair.”

  She smirked. “You would. Did you use your fingers to comb that?”

  Yep, she definitely wasn’t a groupie trying to get into his bed. “That was a compliment, Glasner. You’re supposed to say thank you, not insult me.”

  “Wild hair is a compliment?”

  Oh yeah. One look at that riotous hair paired with her challenging green eyes and his blood heated. Liza was different, an interesting mix of confidence and caution. Like that sweater. He wanted it off her, wanted to break through her wariness to find out who she was. “Not good enough for you? I’ll try again. You look pretty tonight. The green in your shirt brings out your eyes, your hair makes me want to touch it and your smart mouth…” Justice stared at her full lips slicked with a soft pink that had him thinking about kissing her.

  She stiffened, her shoulders jacking to her ears.

  His caution kicked in. Too far. “…is funny and annoying.”

  She let out a breath. “Annoying. Wow, I am touched by your charming compliment, rock star.”

  “What? I said you’re pretty.”

  “Save it, Cade. I’m not interested in your feeble attempts at compliments or whatever you call this.” She waved her fork between them, then scooped up some pasta salad and slid it in her mouth.

  Justice had to force his stare from her lips. What was up with him tonight? Maybe it was that she’d made her disinterest in him so clear? “Your turn, Glasner.” He took another bite of his sandwich, amazed at how much fun he was having.

  “For what?”

  “Compliment. You think I’m so bad at it? Dazzle me with your talent.”

  Her mouth curved into a sensual smile. “Fishing for flattery? Seriously?”

  “Yep.”

  Setting her fork down, she hit him with the full force of her regard. “Let’s see. You’re talented, but you know that. Everyone tells you how great your voice is.”

  The battle to keep a grin off his face was real.

  “There must be something else about you worthy of flattery.” Her eyebrows drew tighter behind her glasses. “Oh, I know. That blue jay on your chest is magnificent, almost ethereal yet striking. Your other ink is cool, but that… Yeah. Nice tat.”

  “Huh. You managed to get a good look in a short time.” Given that she’d worn the expression of a woman ready to bolt when he opened the door, he was pleased. “You like me.” Teasing her was too much fun.

  “I tolerate you.” Liza pushed up the sleeves of her sweater, then sighed and took it off.

  Justice sucked in a breath. Her hair fell around shoulders bared by a clingy tank top. He’d known she had some curves, but damn. A flush ripped through him, heating right down to his bones. Not wanting to make her uncomfortable, he grabbed his bottle of water and swallowed a long drink. Don’t stare. She’d finally relaxed. He didn’t want to change that.

  Scooping up her phone, she said, “I’m bringing up your promo schedule so we can talk about how to feature the other band members. Okay, for the Indie Rock Broadcast interview, I had this idea for River. It’s a little crazy…”

  “How crazy?” Stop thinking about her boobs, you horny bastard. Hell, the top was fairly modest, not like actual cleavage was showing. He focused on the wide silver watch around her left wrist.

  “I have access to your website, so I was reading through your fan mail, and I found one that’s from a girl named Cassie Simmons who was in a serious accident and had to miss her senior year in high school to recover. She talks about how River playing his bass guitar helped her through it.”

  Relieved to have something else to think about, he answered, “That’s great, but how do you want to use it?”

  Her eyes shined behind her glasses. “This girl really connects with River. We could have River read this letter during the interview, then call the girl and talk to her. I think it would mean a lot to her, lift her spirits and help her to see her hero cares. As a bonus, it’ll focus a little attention on River.”

  “You’ve been thinking about this. And working on it. How many emails have you read?” He was impressed that she’d taken the band’s concerns seriously.

  She shrugged. “Dozens. I’ll put them in a file for you guys if you want to see them.”

  “We take turns answering fan mail.”

  She nodded. “I’ll tag it if the fan mentions one of you specifically. But do you think River will agree?”

  “Hell yes. He’ll be all over that.”

  After grabbing a quick bite of her sandwich, she asked, “Who among you all would be the best at building sandcastles?”

  That was unexpected. “Lynx.”

  “Perfect, with all his tats and attitude, this will work.” She scrolled. “Here it is. All three of the bands will be performing at the Sandcastle Contest and Concert a week from Saturday. So, what if we get some kids to enter, and they are trying to build a sandcastle. But, you know, their castle isn’t looking good. Lynx goes to help them. We’ll get pictures, do some live tweeting…that will be gold.”

  Actually, yeah it would be. And easy. “I can arrange that with Drake and some kids from the Fighters to Mentors program. Lynx’s great with those kids. He’s a natural at that kind of thing.”

  “Good. I’ll get in touch with the Indie Rock Broadcast guys and get that call arranged for River.” She made note on her phone, her fingers flying over the digital keypad. “But what’s Fighters to Mentors? And who is Drake?”

  “Put the phone down, and I’ll tell you.” He wanted her focus on him.

  She fiddled with her glasses. “Do you always need undivided attention?”

  His mouth twitched at her snark. “Maybe I just want to know something about you. If you don’t like rock stars—” oh he so wasn’t letting her forget that, “—why are you interested in working with them?”

  “I’m not, at least not long term. But this is great experience, and I need the intern job. There are other jobs in publicity and marketing aside from rock.”

  He shook his head. “Nope. You’re too interested in our music, understand
our sound. You like rock.” Her comments about River’s bass playing were perceptive and spot-on.

  She sipped her water. “I grew up on rock music until I was fourteen years old. I can’t even count the concerts and backstages I’ve been to. Seen the inside of a few tour buses. So yeah, I like the music, but not the life.”

  Her eyes slid away from his, and he didn’t like it. Justice caught her hand. “How did you see all that until you were fourteen?”

  She swallowed. “It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.”

  Was it? Because something haunted her green eyes. “How old are you?”

  “Twenty. I turn twenty-one this summer.”

  “Not that long ago.”

  “I don’t talk about it.” She pulled her hand away and picked up her sandwich.

  She’d shut down. As in he could almost see the wall come down and her eyes go flat. She huddled back in the chair and shoved the food around on her plate. What was she hiding?

  Not your problem. They only had to work together for three weeks. Let it go. He gave her space to regroup while focusing on his own food for a few minutes. But damn, it bugged him. How could a twenty-year-old be such a strange combination of innocence and experience? Taking her sweater off had seemed like a big deal, but she grew up around rock and tour buses? She’d have been exposed to some wild behavior. The silence got to him. “I’m twenty-four. In case you were wondering.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “Ouch.”

  Her lips twitched. “I know how old you are, Rock Ego. I did my research, remember?”

  Ha, he was making progress. “Where’re you from?” That sounded safe enough.

  “Santa Barbara.”

  Curiosity propelled him to ask, “There’s a UC school there. Wouldn’t that have been closer to home?”

  Picking up her fork, she toyed with her pasta salad. “Too close to home. Look, if you want to know badly enough, spend an hour on Google. You’ll find it eventually.”

  The sudden vulnerability in her voice cut him. “Hey, we all have shit. I’m not trying…” Lie. Total lie, he’d been fishing. “Okay, I was digging around, wasn’t I?”

  That earned him a smile. “Not even subtly.”