Reckless Obsession (The Reckless Rockstar Series)

by Samantha Christy

  “Come. Sit.”

  We settle in the living room. I take the picture with me. I can’t stop staring at it. Abby is gazing straight at the camera while Crew is looking only at her. It’s clear he’s in love with her. “What happened, Mrs. Rewey?”

  “Please call me Shelly. Can I get you a drink? Water maybe?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  While she’s in the kitchen, I go to the mirror on the wall and look at myself next to the picture. Aside from our hair, which is the same color and length, we don’t look alike. She has blue eyes, mine are green. I have more freckles and a thinner nose. I’m taller than she is.

  Shelly comes back, catching me at the mirror. “It’s mostly the hair.”

  “And we’re both singers.”

  “There is that.”

  “Tell me what happened. I know he was in love with her. I’ve seen some of his songs.”

  Her eyes light up. “He showed you?”

  Guilt consumes me. “He showed me one. I thought it was about me at first. Then the other night, he left his notebook open, and I … I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help myself.”

  Shelly touches my arm. “You were curious. It’s human nature. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

  “But the song was so private. I think it was about him wanting to die.”

  She inhales sharply. “It was a tough time for him, after Abby died.”

  My eyes snap to hers. “She died?”

  She looks guilty. “I thought you knew.”

  “I suspected, but I wasn’t sure. How did it happen?”

  “Bria, I don’t mean to be rude, but Chris needs to tell you in his own way. It would be better for both of you.”

  “I guess you’re right, but it’s hard.”

  “He likes you very much, I can tell. He showed you one of his songs about her. That’s a step in the right direction.”

  “I thought he showed it to me to let me know he could never feel that way about me.”

  “I doubt that. Chris might feel more than the average person. Maybe that’s why he writes good songs. I suspect you’re the same way, which is why this is so hard for you. I can see how much you care for him. Not many young women would have the courage to show up and ask questions. It tells me you’re willing to fight for him. And perhaps that’s exactly what he needs.”

  “Maybe now it will be a little easier. How long do you think he needs to get over her?”

  “Grief doesn’t have a timetable. To some, seven years is a lifetime. To others, it can seem like yesterday.”

  “She died seven years ago?”

  She nods.

  “They were high school sweethearts?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you were close to her?”

  “She was like a daughter to me.”

  That makes me sad.

  Shelly sees the tears pooling in my eyes. She puts her arm around me. “But that doesn’t mean there’s not room for more. In my heart and Chris’s.”

  “My mom died.”

  “I know. Chris told me.”

  “He talks about me?”

  “Yes. I’m very sorry about your mom. What a horrible day that must have been.”

  “I was so young, I don’t even remember her.”

  She touches the picture. “That’s why photos are important. They help us remember the faces of those we’ve loved. It doesn’t mean we can’t love others just because we keep them around.”

  I think about the empty spots on Chris’s bookshelf, where he obviously keeps photos of her.

  “Do you think he’s still suicidal?”

  “He’s sad, stuck in an emotional rut. He’s also holding on to a lot of guilt, but he’s not suicidal. Music has helped him when nothing else could. I think you’re helping him, too.”

  “Me? I think I’m making things worse.”

  “You are forcing him to come to terms with the past and making him think about a future. You’re doing everything right. Don’t change a thing.”

  I look at the young girl in the picture. “Can I ask you one more question? Did she call him Christopher?”

  She nods, then she takes the picture from me, walks across the room, and hangs it. She stares at a blank spot on the wall. “There is an empty spot right here that needs another photo.” She glances at me. “I bet it won’t be too long before I’m hanging a picture of you.”

  I drop my eyes.

  She sits next to me. “You love my son, don’t you?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  She laughs. “No, but you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. Give him time, Bria. I promise he’s worth waiting for. Why don’t you stay for lunch? I’ll make sandwiches. You need energy for tonight’s performance. Chris tells me it’s a big one.”

  I stand, ready to accept her invitation, and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. “Thanks for the offer but I’ll have to take a raincheck.”

  “My door’s always open,” she says. “I mean that. Sometimes a little motherly advice is just what the doctor ordered.”

  I smile. “Motherly advice. I’d like that. Thank you.”

  As soon as I’m out the door, I make a call. “Carlos, I have an emergency. Can you work me in right now?”

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Crew

  Ronni wanted us all to meet at IRL before our big night. The guys and I arrived a little while ago. We’re waiting on Bria.

  “Sit,” Ronni says after squirting something in her hands.

  I eye her suspiciously.

  “Just do it, Crew.”

  I sit in front of her and she rubs goo through my hair. She plays with it for a few minutes, circling me until she gets it just right. Her boobs almost touch my face as she leans over.

  “There,” she says.

  I go to the mirror. My hair is spiky and haphazard. I try to touch it, but she bats away my hand. “Leave it. The girls will love it. It looks like you rolled out of bed, and they want to fantasize it was their bed. Some of the guys will like it too.”

  I turn to Garrett. “What do you say? Does this make you want to fuck me?”

  He throws a drumstick at my head. I duck and it flies by, narrowly missing Ronni. She jumps into my arms to avoid it. We fall back onto a chair and I catch her on my lap. She looks down at me, laughs, and shimmies. “Maybe I should thank him for that.”

  The door opens, and Bria walks in. Her eyes open wide when she sees Ronni on top of me. I quickly stand and put her on her feet. I feel guilty even though I didn’t do anything. She keeps watching me, but instead of being mad, she smiles.

  I can’t take my eyes off her, and it takes me a few seconds to figure out why.

  “Brianna, what the hell have you done?” Ronni spits.

  Garrett walks around Bria. “Wow.”

  She’s gone back to her old hair color—I guess she didn’t like the new highlights after all—and she’s cut it, even though she was so against it. It falls just below her chin and is uneven, with longer layers in front and short in back.

  I push past Garrett. “Dang, I’ve changed my mind about long hair being sexier. I kind of like Bria 3.0.”

  She laughs. “I’m glad you approve.”

  “Approve? I love it.”

  “This is not what we agreed on,” Ronni says, looking displeased. “It’s so boring.”

  “I didn’t like it the other way,” Bria says. “So I thought I’d compromise and go back to brown but cut it like you wanted.”

  Ronni is pissed. I’m not sure why, because Bria looks fantastic.

  “The car’s here,” Jeremy says. “We hardly have time to do anything about it now. Besides, I think Brianna is stunning.”

  “You mean hot,” Liam says.

  Bria smiles.

  “What car?” Garrett asks. “I thought Bruce was waiting out back with the van.”

  “You’re not going in the van,” Ronni says. “Come on.”

  A stretch limo is parked outside. The driver is
holding the rear door open.

  I say, “We can’t afford this. Some of us are barely making rent.”

  “It’s all about image,” Ronni says. “If you arrive in a passenger van with all your equipment, people think you’re a street band, working for pennies.”

  “Ronni, we are a street band working for pennies.”

  “Listen. If you show up in a limo, people will assume you’re important. Pretty soon, if enough people think you’re important, you’ll be important.”

  “It won’t matter how important we are if we’re living on the streets.”

  She motions for me to get in, then climbs in after me, sitting next to me and leaving no room for Bria. Bria sits next to Liam, who continues to tell her how hot she is, probably because he’s the only one who knew she resembled Abby. She looks nothing like Abby now. Relief washes over me.

  “You’ll play two sets,” Jeremy tells us. “Ronni would like you to mingle with the club patrons after.”

  “What exactly does that mean?” Brad asks.

  Ronni says, “Be chatty. Sign autographs. Pose for pictures. Dance with people. Make them want more of Reckless Alibi.”

  Bria cocks her head. “You mean flirt.”

  “If that’s what it takes, yes,” Ronni says. “There will be a lot of money in that club. Important people. Influential people. You want them on your side.”

  Ronni and Jeremy give us more instructions along the way. When we arrive, there is already a crowd at the door. The driver waits until he can pull up directly in front of the building. Ronni instructs him to stay inside the car for five minutes. “We need to build excitement. People will wonder who’s in the limousine, and the longer we wait to exit, the more hype there will be. I’ll text the manager and have him send out two bouncers, so it looks like you need security.”

  When she’s convinced enough time has passed, she tells the driver to open the door. Ronni moves so she’s boxing Bria in. She puts an arm across Bria, preventing her from getting up. “Boys first. Crew, you go.”

  I start to protest but Bria stops me. “It’s fine. Go.”

  I flash Ronni an irritated look.

  “Remember,” she says. “You’re stars. Act like it.”

  I exit the car. People swarm closer to get a look at us. Phones come out to snap pictures, but I doubt they even know who we are.

  The bouncers are overdramatic when they “hold” people back. I’m beginning to think this entire night has been orchestrated.

  Ronni comes out of the limo before Bria. I step back, ready to go in and get her, but Jeremy hustles me forward. “Stars,” he says. “Come on. Brianna is a big girl.”

  Bria is the last to leave the car. It’s ridiculous. I vow to talk with Ronni about this. We shouldn’t have to put up with this shit. Bria is as much a part of RA as I am.

  Ronni stops, letting Bria by, and shouts to the crowd. “Reckless Alibi will be available after the show for pictures and autographs. Thank you all for coming.”

  We’re led through the bar to a back room that is our staging area. Food and a few bottles of liquor are on a table against one wall. Large buckets of ice are filled with cold beers and bottles of champagne. Liam goes right for the drinks.

  “Might want to limit yourself to one or two until after the show,” Ronni tells him.

  “You trying to say something?” Liam asks.

  Ronni ignores him, but it’s obvious she’s caught wind of his drinking habits. I might need to run interference where that is concerned. While I’m not excited about the amount of alcohol he consumes, I know why he does what he does, and it’s none of her business. Liam and I have had each other’s back since we were six. That won’t change now.

  Jeremy pops his head in. “Bruce has everything set up, and the sound check is complete. You’re good to go.”

  I pour shots for the five of us, and we gather in a circle. “Ronni, can you give us a minute?”

  She hesitates then spins on her stilettos and walks out the door.

  “We need to put on our best performance. None of us are happy about how Ronni goes about things, but she’s right. People have to think we’re something more than we are. Let’s go show them. On three.”

  “Let’s get reckless!” we shout, clink our glasses together, and down our shots.

  I let the others leave while discreetly holding Bria back. “Earlier, when you saw Ronni in my lap? Garrett threw a drumstick. She fell on me while dodging it.”

  “I didn’t ask,” she says.

  “I know, but I just wanted you to know.” I cage her to the wall and rub a lock of her hair between my fingers. “You’re beautiful.”

  She smiles, eyes sparkling and cheeks glowing.

  I lean close and whisper, “You’re sexy, too.” She pushes against me, and my dick twitches. I step back. “I’m not about to go out there in front of five hundred people with a boner.”

  She grabs my hand. “Come on, Chris Rewey, let’s go rock this place.”

  For the next two hours, we rock the shit out of it. Bria and I put on a show like no other, and when I look at her, I see her.

  Everyone in the club is on their feet, crowding the stage. The five of us are all smiles. Bria and I feed off each other, getting better as the show goes on. This is more exciting than opening for White Poison. The crowd there might have been fifty times bigger, but we weren’t headlining. It’s just us here. Reckless Alibi. We’re making a name for ourselves, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

  When we leave the stage, people chant for us to come back. Rarely do we play encores in clubs or bars, but they’re begging for more.

  Jeremy finds us. “Can you hear that? Want me to tell the sound guys you’re going back for another?”

  “Ronni didn’t include an encore song on the play list,” Liam says.

  Bria and I look at each other. “‘On That Stage’,” we say in sync.

  “Hell yeah,” Garrett says.

  We run back out. The crowd goes crazy.

  I cross to the mic. They get quiet. “Here’s one I think you’ll like. It’s a personal favorite.”

  Ronni’s at the end of the bar, talking to the manager. She doesn’t look happy. She hates it when we play this one. Although Bria and I write all new material together, this song is clearly about us, and no matter how many times I’ve told Ronni we’re together, she can’t seem to accept it.

  Garrett counts us off. Bria and I gaze at each other when Liam and Brad start to play. The first verse is hers. She sings it to me like she always does. Mine is next. I walk around behind her, and she dances while I sing. She shoves me in the chest during the third verse. I love it when she touches me onstage, and she knows it.

  The song ends to thunderous applause. Bria runs over and jumps in my arms. I put down our mics and kiss her.

  “We nailed it,” I say.

  We run offstage. Ronni is waiting, and she’s pissed. “Do not kiss her onstage.”

  “Oh, relax,” I say. “We were a little excited. The crowd was great, don’t you think?”

  Ronni steps closer, flames of anger simmering in her eyes. “Don’t do it again. Ever.”

  “Don’t you get it?” Bria says. “She thinks you’ll be more desirable if the ladies think you’re single.”

  I give Ronni the stink eye. “I’m not single.”

  “I don’t see a ring on that finger,” Ronni says. She cuts between Bria and me. “Until you’re so famous that your image doesn’t matter, you’ll leave the decisions to me. Now come with me. There are people you need to meet.” She looks over my shoulder. “Jeremy, please make sure the rest of them mingle.”

  “Just me?” I ask as she escorts me to the VIP section on the upper floor.

  “The others will meet them too, but I think one at a time is best. That way, they’ll get to know each one of you.”

  “Who is they?”

  “Entrepreneurs, restaurant owners, radio execs—there’s even a film producer here. I made the rounds
during your show. They’re all eager to meet you. I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

  I hate it when she treats us like children. “I’ll try not to sneeze in their Cristal.”

  “Stop it,” she says, irritated. Then she starts laughing like I said the funniest thing ever. It takes me a moment to realize the fake laugher is meant to draw attention to us.

  For the next twenty minutes, Ronni introduces me to a dozen people with whom I have nothing in common. She doesn’t leave my side the entire time, her arm laced tightly around my elbow.

  I lean in and say, “For someone who doesn’t want me to look spoken for, you sure are keeping me close.”

  She throws her head back and laughs again, putting on a show.

  Somebody shoot me. She’s even more fake than I gave her credit for.

  A man takes her aside, and I finally get a chance to duck away. I stand on the balcony, watching the people below, scanning the crowd for Bria and the guys. She’s near the bar, surrounded by three men. I look for Jeremy or one of the others, but nobody is with her. One of the men hands her a drink. She takes a sip.

  I hurry downstairs and across the floor until I reach her. I take her drink and put it on the bar. “Come with me.” The back hallway is quiet and dimly lit.

  She smiles wryly. “Here?”

  “Bria, what are you doing?” I ask sternly.

  She’s confused by my question. She looks out at the crowd and back at me. “I’m mingling, like Ronni told us.”

  “You took a drink from a stranger.”

  “I was standing at the bar.”

  “But your back was to it. He got the drink from the bartender and handed it to you. He could have slipped something into it.”

  She looks concerned. “Did he?”

  “No, but he could have.”

  She slumps against the wall. “Crew, four band members and Jeremy are looking out for me. Nobody is going to drug me.”

  “There are five hundred people in this club. How long do you think it would take for the five of us to notice you’re gone? Ten minutes? Five? By that time, you’re in the back of someone’s car.”

  She touches my cheek. “You’re going a little overboard. I can take care of myself.”