I drop her hand and unclasp the pen from my notebook, writing a few words down before we reach Mom’s floor.
“Always working,” Bria says, still in good humor.
“Chris!” Mom brings me in for a hug as soon as she opens the door.
“Mom, you remember Bria Cash?”
She hugs Bria. “Of course I do. You’re a wonderful singer, sweetie.”
“Thank you,” Bria says, taking everything in. “You have a lovely home.”
“That's Gary’s doing,” she says. “He’s my sugar daddy, and I’m his trophy wife.”
“I heard that,” Gary says, joining us from the kitchen. He kisses Mom’s head. “Not that it’s not true.”
I introduce Bria and Gary and glance briefly at the photos on the wall, hoping Bria doesn’t look at them too closely. “Sorry to barge in on you like this, but we just played a gig, and I’m all sweaty. Abby wanted to go out to dinner, so I popped in for a shower and change of clothes.”
Everyone is looking at me funny.
“What?”
“You called me Abby,” Bria says.
I run a hand through my hair. Fuck.
Mom looks at me sympathetically. “Bria, why don’t I show you around while Chris cleans up? We have a spectacular balcony.” Mom drags her away.
“You okay?” Gary asks.
I shake my head.
“It took me twenty years to get over my first wife. Who has three kids, turns thirty-five, and decides they don’t want to be married?”
“She divorced you. Big difference.”
“It’s the only frame of reference I have. The therapist I used to see told me divorce is a lot like death. Apparently you go through a lot of the same stages of grief.”
“No way could it be the same.”
“Probably not.” He sighs. “Has your mom told you I’ve called her Helen before? More than once, and usually when I’m snapping at her.”
I motion to the photo of Abby and me. “I looked at the picture. I didn’t mean to call her that.”
“Is she the kind of girl you think you might open up to?”
I shrug. “I don’t know anything right now.”
“Seems to me she’s something special. Maybe you should start thinking about it, before it’s too late.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Bria
Both of us are quiet on the way to my place. I glance at his notebook. Is Abby the one who lives in those pages?
Crew looks at me like he knows what I’m thinking. He shifts the notebook to his other hand, as if protecting it from me.
At my apartment, I go straight for a bottle of wine. “Here.” I hand him a glass. “Make yourself comfortable. I need a shower too.”
I notice my notebook on the coffee table where I left it. I decide to leave it where it is. Will he look through it? If he does, will my songs about him scare him away? Would I look through his if I had the chance? I know it would be tempting to do it, but at the same time, so wrong. Then again, he’d never leave it out for anyone to see. I didn’t miss the fact that he took it with him to the bathroom at his mom’s. His mom’s. That should be a safe place. Which makes me wonder if the only person he’s hiding it from is me.
I turn the radio on for Crew then go to the bathroom. I look in the mirror, wondering what Abby looks like. Does he still talk to her? I swallow. Does he still love her?
I’m almost finished when Crew screams my name from the other side of the door. “What? I’m in the shower.”
He opens the door and shoves my robe through the shower curtain. “We’re on the radio!”
I pull back the curtain. “You’re messing with me.”
“Am I?”
I don’t bother drying off. I throw on the robe and trot to the living room, water dripping down my legs and trailing across the floor.
I hear myself singing, and it finally sinks in. It’s one of the RA songs we re-recorded last month. Ronni did it! It’s six-fifteen, Sunday, June eighteenth. Remember this, I tell myself. “Shh,” I say loudly when Crew looks like he’s going to speak again.
We look at each other as we listen to the rest of the song. Our lips move with the words. It’s not like we haven’t heard ourselves before, we have. All the time. But this is different. He’s never been on the radio. I haven’t either. This could quite possibly be the best moment of my life. Better even than when I got the job as the backup singer for White Poison.
After the song ends, I scream and jump in his arms. “We were on the radio!”
He kisses me more passionately than he sings to me onstage.
He carries me to the bed and lays me down. My robe falls open. He gazes at me like he’s never seen a naked woman. I warm under his perusal, aching for his touch.
He runs a hand across my inner knee to my thigh, then touches me there. It’s like he’s asking for permission. I bite my lip and nod my head. He puts a finger on my clit and I shudder. He works it to the beat of the song on the radio. If I weren’t so aroused, I’d laugh.
He slips a finger inside me, then another. I raise my hips, pushing onto them. I’m climbing, climbing. I’ve never been turned on this quickly and thoroughly. I should be embarrassed but I’m not. I’m lying naked before him, and he’s fully dressed. I’m not nervous either. I’m a bomb waiting to explode.
He’s working me with his thumb, his fingers still exploring inside me. Thrill after thrill shoots through my body as he possesses me.
“Bria,” he says softly.
Him saying my name is all it takes for me to clamp down and shout, “Oh, God!”
My head falls back on the bed and I breathe deeply, feeling the final surges of my orgasm.
When I open my eyes, he’s staring at the scar on my stomach. I grab his belt. “Now you.”
He hesitates, and I get the strange feeling he’s about to get up and run out the door. But he swallows and takes off his pants.
I’m not sure what just happened, but I think whatever it was is good. He sits next to me and pulls off his shirt. He might be the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. Adam was sexy, there’s no denying that, but he was sexy in a I-know-I’m-sexy way. Crew is sexy for other reasons. And I could be wrong, but I think he’s exposing more than his body to me right now. In some way, I think he’s exposing his soul.
I take his cock into my hands, and he inhales sharply. I run my hand up and down the shaft. He’s long, thick, solid, and velvety soft. He leans down. “Do you have a condom?”
I point. He opens the nightstand drawer, looking in it and then back at me. I can see it in his eyes; he wants to ask me how often I open this drawer, but he doesn’t, because if he asks me about my past, he’d have to tell me about his.
He opens a pack and puts the condom on in record time, then gets on top of me. “Is this okay?”
I nod.
“Say it, Bria,” he commands.
Ooooo, I like demanding Crew. “I want this.”
His eyes burn into mine as he enters me. Then he fucks me fast and hard. I barely even have time to feel it before he comes. He groans into my shoulder and lies on top of me for a minute. I wonder if I’ve ever had quicker sex in my life.
He rolls out of bed and vanishes into the bathroom. I listen to him wash up.
A few minutes later, he opens the door and stands naked in the doorway. He grips the doorframe above him and shakes his head. “Were we really on the radio?”
I roll onto my stomach and let out an excited scream. “We really were.”
He sits beside me. “I should apologize. It’s been a while.”
I can’t help my smile. “How long?”
“Five months or so.”
My lower lip works its way into my mouth as I calculate how long ago we met.
He touches my bare butt. “What about you?”
I shrug nonchalantly. “About five months or so.”
“Adam?”
I nod.
“How did I compare?” He puts a finger to
my lips. “You know what, don’t answer that.”
I chuckle. “Well, you were so quick, I don’t have enough data to answer the question.”
“Not enough data, huh?”
I nod seductively. His cock dances. I reach out and give it a tug. His mouth twitches into a grin. He gets hard in my hands.
“I want a do-over,” he says, getting another condom.
I lie on my back, exposing myself to him. He sucks my nipple into his mouth and blows on it, giving me a chill. Then he ever so lightly nips me. I shake involuntarily and feel his smile against my breast.
“You are so responsive.”
I arch into him. “I aim to please.”
He growls—actually growls like a bear—and climbs on top of me, testing me with his fingers before he pushes himself in. He seats himself fully and then retracts until just the tip remains. He does it again, building me back up. He makes love to me slowly this time. His lips are moving, and I wonder if he’s writing a song. The thought has me clawing at his back. He slips a hand between us and pinches my nipple. I groan. His thrusts come more quickly.
He flips me over and yanks me to my knees, slapping against me as he sinks into me over and over from behind. I grab a pillow and lean into it, moaning at the way he feels inside me. He reaches around and rubs my clit with one hand, his other hand grabbing my waist.
“I’m gonna come,” he announces, pushing me over the edge for a second time. We both shout.
We collapse, sweaty and satiated, and laugh.
“We should definitely write a song about that. Jesus, Bria.”
I giggle. “I thought you were. I swear I saw your lips moving, and since you’re always writing …”
“Lyrics by sex,” he says, stroking my side. “You’re very inspiring.”
“I could say the same about you.”
“I still can’t believe it.”
“I know it’s a lot to process, being in bed with a famous singer and all, but you’re going to have to realize I’m a person, too. But on your way out, my head of security will ask you to sign an NDA.”
He hits me with a pillow.
I rise on one elbow. “Do you think it’s been on more than once, or do you suppose we heard the very first time?”
“Hard to say, but what are the odds that we happened to be listening the first time it was on?”
“Do you think the guys heard it?”
He retrieves his phone and gets back into bed. “No texts or calls.”
“Maybe we should tell them.”
He puts down his phone and straddles me. “Hmm, or maybe …” He shimmies against me, getting hard again.
We call them after round three, and Ronni finally texts to let us know we were on the radio. Thanks for the heads up, Veronica.
After round four, I revel in the events of the day and realize Crew’s asleep. I strain to see the outline of his face. I stare at him for a long time. Long enough for the moon to come up and shine through the window.
“Abby,” he mumbles, snuggling against me.
I fall asleep before dawn after staying up most of the night crying, because the man in my arms thinks I’m someone else.
The bed creaks. I cover my eyes to block the light. I hear Crew use the bathroom. He crawls back into bed and wraps his arm around me and kisses the back of my head. His breathing slows; he’s going back to sleep.
“Crew?”
“Yeah?” he says sleepily.
I face him knowing I shouldn’t ask, but I can’t help myself. “Who’s Abby?”
Suddenly he’s wide awake, but he doesn’t speak, or get off the bed, or run away. He just turns away from me and pulls the covers up.
Guilt consumes me. He wasn’t baring his soul to me after all. And now … now he’s burying it.
Chapter Twenty-four
Crew
Seven years ago
Where is she?
Between songs, I check the time. Abby’s never late. We’re almost finished with our set.
Liam shrugs at me. He knows as well as I do our final song was going to be my early birthday present to her. I’ve been working on it for months. I started writing it the day we found out she was pregnant. No way am I going to sing it if she’s not here.
Two more songs go by. Mom’s out front, and she’s searching for Abby too. ‘Where is she?’ she mouths. I shake my head.
I check my phone during the guitar solo. No new texts. I quickly send her one. She doesn’t respond.
We’re finishing up the next to last song when Liam says, “Yes or no?”
I make a cutthroat sign to let them know we’re wrapping it up.
I hardly thank the crowd at all. Usually, I make a big production of who we are and where they can find us, but I only nod and hustle offstage.
I call her. She doesn’t answer. I call Janine and a few of her other friends. They all say they thought she was coming here.
Freaking out, I say to my bandmates, “Can you pack up without me? I have to find her.”
“Sure thing,” Liam says. “I hope everything’s okay.”
“She was probably held up at work,” I say, but I don’t believe it. She’d have texted me if that were the case.
Mom appears, and I hurry over to her. “Can I borrow the car? I’ll drop you at the house first, then I want to swing by the restaurant. I don’t get why she’s not answering my texts or calls.”
“It’s on the way home. I’ll go with you, and you can drop me off after. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation.”
“Thanks.”
“You were great tonight,” she says as we leave the venue.
“They were great. I was worried about Abby, so I sucked.”
“You didn’t suck, Chris. I see a big future for you in the music industry, with or without Naked Whale. Promise me you’ll always be smart about it. Promise me you won’t get caught up in the drugs and narcissism.” She touches my shoulder. “I don’t want you to lose the incredible man you’ve become.”
“I promise.”
Twenty minutes later we park at the fast food restaurant. Abby’s car is in the lot, and I’ve never been so relieved. I get out and go over to it, and something crunches under my shoe. It’s a cracked cellphone, and I can tell by the case it’s hers. Not far away from it is a scrunchy, like the one she wears to work. I pick it up; there’s a lot of hair in it. Abby’s hair.
“This is hers,” I say, holding it up for Mom to see through the open window.
She comes around to my side of the car, and we follow a trail of things on the ground—a crushed bottle of hand sanitizer, a package of tissues, a pen, a tube of Chapstick—and end up at a purse.
My heart is pounding, and my mouth goes dry. “That’s hers.”
Without thinking, I reach for it, but Mom stops me. “Don’t touch anything. Run inside and see if she’s there.”
“You think something happened to her?” I feel dizzy.
“Maybe she fell on her way to the car and had to be taken to the hospital.”
“Oh shit, the baby.”
“Hurry. I’ll wait here.”
I run inside and cut in front of people at the counter.
“Dude,” someone says. “Not cool.”
I ignore him and ask the employees, “Is Abby Evans here?”
“She’s not working right now,” a man says.
“When did she leave?”
“Dunno. A while ago.”
I slap the counter. “I need to know how long she’s been gone.”
He shouts to someone in the back. “Chet, when did Abby clock out?”
“Seven.”
“Exactly seven?”
“Hold on. Six fifty-five.”
“Happy now?” the annoyed cashier says to me.
I glance at my phone. It’s quarter to nine. “Are you sure she’s not in back?”
“In the plush employee’s lounge?” he says sarcastically. “Yes, I’m sure. She said she had to go to her b
oyfriend’s concert. I’m guessing you’re the boyfriend. Guess you got stood up, man.”
“Can you do me a favor and check in back? Maybe she’s sick or something.” I turn to a female employee. “Can you check the bathroom? Please. It’s important.” I follow her and wait outside the restroom.
“There’s nobody in there,” she says.
I return to the front counter. The man shakes his head. “She’s not here. Sorry.”
Running back outside, I try to call Abby again. Then I remember her phone is smashed on the ground.
Mom is on her cell.
“Abigail Evans. Abby. She’s seventeen. Light brown hair with streaks of blonde. Blue eyes. About five-two. How about Abigail Rewey? R-E-W-E-Y,” she spells out. “Yes, I’m her mother.” She glances at me, and I see the worry in her eyes. “Okay, thank you.” She puts her phone away. “I take it she’s not inside.”
“They said she left almost two hours ago.”
“I called the three closest hospitals. None of them have admitted a girl by her name or description in the last few hours.”
I gaze at Abby’s things strewn across the ground. “Mom, this is so messed up. I’m scared.”
She puts an arm around me. “We need to call her parents and then the police.”
A huge lump forms in my throat. “Mom, no. You don’t think—”
“Chris, let’s not go there yet.”
Her scrunchy is still in my hand. I sit on the curb and stare at it as Mom calls Dr. Evans and then the police. As I listen to her, an eerie feeling washes over me. A feeling that my life will never be the same again.
I jump to my feet and get sick in the bushes.
Chapter Twenty-five
Bria
The ride to Stamford is uncomfortable. Neither of us brings up him twice calling me Abby.
It’s obvious we’re dancing around it by talking about what else happened yesterday. Our song was on the radio! It’s everything I ever dreamed of. Crew obsessively changes stations, trying to hear it again. We’re pulling off the highway when it finally comes on. I’m so excited I have to pull into a fast-food parking lot.
Reckless Obsession (The Reckless Rockstar Series) Page 14