by Lauren Rowe
I crumple into my chair, the enormity of the situation dawning on me. How is this my life? I can’t process this. When I left my apartment this evening, I had one actual guy to deal with, plus one fantasy rockstar—a rockstar I’d convinced myself had become completely out of reach to me. And now, in the space of mere hours, I’ve suddenly got not one, not two, but three actual guys to deal with:
One, the guy I’ve been dating recently. The only actual guy I had in my life when I left my apartment tonight. I’ve tried to want him, told myself to want him, but now I know it’s impossible. Now that I’ve seen Dax again, and heard that song, I know with crystal clarity the guy I’ve been dating has been nothing but a placeholder—a way to distract my aching, bleeding heart while I’ve awaited Dax’s return from tour.
Two, the guy I used to want, more than anything. My first love who went away and broke my heart, and just now shocked me by calling me “the one that got away” and then dropped the bomb he wants to talk to me, in private, after Dax’s set.
And, three... ah, my lucky number three. I’ve got the glorious rock god on that stage. The only man I truly want. The guy who just now told me and this entire freaking arena, in secret code, that he wants me—a flower, a road—as much as I want him. Holy crap, he said he wants me in his bed and in his life! Oh, God, I’m losing my mind.
Of course, it’s thrilling to hear Dax is still attracted to me, after all this time. Beyond thrilling. But once Dax is able to thoughtfully weigh the consequences of being with me, a girl he spent one magical night with months ago, will he really move forward with me? I can’t fathom it. Plus, Dax only knows about Caleb at this point. Half the story. Once he finds out the rest, he’ll have double the reasons to run for the hills. And, sadly, if I’m being honest with myself, I’ll know in my heart that’s exactly what he should do.
Chapter 25
Dax
“Why isn’t she here yet?” I say to Fish. “My family keeps texting me, telling me to get my ass to Josh and Kat’s suite.”
“Is your family staying here at this hotel?” Fish asks.
“No.” I tell Fish the name of my family’s hotel—a ritzy resort across town by the beach. “I told them I have to show my face at the wrap party for a bit, or else the crew will think I’m a dick. But if I don’t get over there to hang out with my family in an hour or so, they’re gonna hunt me down and beat me. Maybe even drag my ass to rehab.”
“Rehab?”
I roll my eyes. “They’ve seen one too many rockstar documentaries, I think.”
“Or maybe they’ve seen the internet,” Fish says dryly. “Photos of you partying like a rockstar are everywhere, Daxy. Hate to break it to you.”
“Half the time in those photos, I’m just exhausted after a long travel day. Sometimes, the photo caught me blinking or whatever. And then they slap a click-bait headline on there, making me out to be some zombie, and everyone believes it.”
“Yeah, I know that and you know that. But your family doesn’t. Especially not after your arms melted off the other night. They’re right to be worried after that crazy shit, Dax. You kind of threw lighter fluid on the ‘rockstar cliché’ narrative and then lit a match that night.”
I mutter curses under my breath.
Fish says, “Just go to your family now, man. Nobody will be pissed if you skip out on the party.”
I glare at Fish. He knows full well me not wanting to come off as a dick isn’t the reason I haven’t left this party yet. It’s because I’m physically aching to see Violet again. Because my very molecules need to pull Violet aside and find out if she’s thinking and feeling what I confessed to thinking and feeling in my song. Unfortunately, though, since I can’t very well ask C-Bomb, “Hey, have you heard from your sister or Violet yet? Are they still coming?” I’ve got no choice but to stand here with Fish, sipping my sparkling water and staring at the door to the suite like a puppy awaiting his master.
I glance across the room to peek at C-Bomb. He’s playing beer pong with Colin and Clay and a couple guys from the crew. I look C-Bomb up and down, and jealousy surges inside me. God, I hate feeling this way. Jealousy isn’t my thing. But ever since C-Bomb hugged Violet like he wanted to sink his cock inside her—ever since he shoved his nose into her hair and inhaled, making it clear he wanted to do the same thing while camped between her legs, I can’t stop imagining him doing all the things to her I want to do. All the things he’s obviously already done with her, at some point in the past. Fuck! That’s the shit that’s making me want to rip Caleb’s head and dick clean off his body. Knowing he’s tasted her and wants to do it again. I’m not a violent dude, typically. I’m chill. Live and let love. And yet, standing here now, there’s no doubt in my mind I’m fully capable of murder, under the right circumstances.
“Dax, you should go,” Fish says. “Even if she winds up coming here, this party isn’t the place for you to talk to her in private. Not with Caleb here. It won’t end well.”
“If she shows up, I’ll be discreet,” I whisper.
“It’s not a good idea, man.”
“I’ll be careful. If I don’t talk to her tonight, I’m gonna explode. I’ve at least gotta tell her I’ve been thinking about her this whole time.”
“You already told her that in the song. The ball’s in her court now. Let her make the next move. Clearly, she thinks this party is gonna turn into an episode of Jerry Springer if she shows up, so she’s staying away. And she’s most likely right about that. At least one of you is thinking clearly.”
“You think maybe the song scared her off?”
“I think she’s in an impossible situation. She can’t come here and talk to you with him standing there. You know how he is. He’s not a ‘talk first, hit later’ kind of guy. If he finds out about you two, he’ll throw you off the balcony and ask questions later.”
I glance at C-Bomb, and a wave of primal jealousy crashes into me again. The dude is ripped. Just the thought of him with Violet... Oh, God, I’m driving myself insane. What the fuck did he talk to Violet about earlier tonight, right after our set? I think I can guess. Unfortunately, when I got back to my dressing room after performing, the door to the RCR dressing room was firmly closed. Were they already in there, talking? Or maybe even kissing? Or worse? There was no way for me to know what was going on in there, short of pressing my ear against the door, which I was tempted to do, but refrained. Somehow, I forced myself to shower in my dressing room and hang out and wait... just in case Violet sneaked in to see me after Red Card Riot went onstage. But, nope, she never came. And now, here I am, staring at the door of this suite, feeling like I’ve been stood up.
“I’m sure she’ll contact you later,” Fish says. “There’s no way she doesn’t want to talk to you after hearing that song.”
“I’m not gonna wait around for that to happen. I’m seeing Reed tomorrow at Henn and Hannah’s wedding. I’ll ask him for Miranda’s number then and connect with Violet that way. I can’t wait another day.”
“And then what?” Fish lowers his voice. “Are you willing to get with Caleb’s ex—after finding out that’s who she is? At Reed’s party you didn’t know. That was different. If you get with her now, it’s gonna be World War III.”
My stomach twists. “I just need to talk to her. If something were to happen between us, nobody would have to know about it. We could hook up on the downlow, just to see if the connection is still there. And if not, walk away without anyone the wiser.”
Fish scoffs. “Wow, you’ve already thought this through, huh?”
I don’t deny it.
“How ironic is it your family thinks you need rehab for some imaginary coke habit, and all this time, you’ve just been going through Violet withdrawals.”
Lyrics.
Out of nowhere, they’re here again.
I pull out my phone, intending to jot them down, but a voice calling my name forces me to look up. The voice belongs to a statuesque woman who’s sauntering toward Fish
and me. She’s got a huge smile on her face like we’re besties, but I have no idea who she is.
“It’s me! Alexandria!” she says when she reaches us.
She air-kisses Fish and then me, like we’re old friends. But, still, I stare blankly.
“Don’t you remember me?” she says, laughing. “We partied together at Aloha Carmichael’s party last year!”
Fish and I exchange a look of shock. The star-fucker model.
Blah, blah, blah, the star-fucker says. She’s seen us in this video and that one, on that TV appearance and on such and such awards show. She says she watched our performance on the Billboard Music Awards with some model friends of hers, and told them proudly, “I know those guys! They’re the sweetest!”
Fish and I look at each other again. This girl’s on crack.
She grabs my arm. “Do you still have a girlfriend, Dax?”
“I do. Same one. We’re stronger than ever. And she’s still the jealous type.”
We share a fake laugh.
She links her arm in Fish’s, all smiles and flirtation. “And what about you, cutie pie? Have you been snatched up since I last saw you? For my sake, I hope not.”
Fish makes an incredulous face. “You’re joking.”
She leans forward conspiratorially. “I follow you on Instagram. I know you were pulling my leg about being with Colin. You’re so funny.”
Fish looks pissed. “You’re seriously gonna flirt with me now, like you didn’t flat-out stiff-arm me at Aloha’s party... and the only thing that’s happened between now and then is that my band hit it big?”
She touches her chest. “I didn’t stiff-arm you!”
“Um. Yeah, you did.”
“Honey, no. You rejected me. You said you were with the drummer.”
“Because you stiff-armed me!” Fish says. He gathers himself. “Look, you didn’t have to slobber all over me at that party. I don’t blame you for setting your sights higher than me. Especially back then, because I acted like a desperate idiot. But you certainly didn’t have to be mean to me. You could have let me down easy. You could have been kind. You didn’t have to treat me like a mangy dog.”
“A mangy...? Fish, that’s crazy. And, regardless, hello. I’m flirting with you now. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s not all that matters. I’m exactly the same dude I was back then. If you thought I was unworthy then, I’m unworthy now. If I was ugly then, I’m ugly now. I’m in the same band. I’ve got the same friends and I make the same jokes. The only difference now is, for some reason, the world’s decided I’m cool. Oh, and I’m loaded now, too. But I’m sure that fact hasn’t escaped you.”
The woman looks shocked. “Fish, I don’t care about money. I was just hoping to get to know you. You’re the one who rejected me that night and I’ve never forgotten it. Not the other way around.”
Fish’s jaw drops. “Okay, you’re either a liar or crazy. But, either way, I want nothing to do with you. And you’re absolutely right: it’s not because I’m with Colin or any other dude. I do, indeed, like girls. A lot. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about myself these past months, it’s that I’ll take a genuinely nice, fun girl over a stuck-up, fame-chasing, bitchy model star-fucker, any day of the week. Come on, Dax. I’m done wasting my time here.” With that, Fish saunters away like he’s got the biggest dick in the room.
“You’re my hero,” I say when Fish comes to a stand in a far corner.
But, to my surprise, Fish looks bummed, not triumphant. “Was I too dicky to her?”
“What? No! You wielded the perfect amount of dick. Didn’t it feel good to say all that to her?”
“Yeah, it felt amazing. But then, the look on her face as I was walking away made me think maybe I overdid it. I’m not used to being mean to girls. They’re always mean to me.”
I laugh. “Aw, Fish Taco. Don’t backtrack now. All you did was tell her the truth.”
Fish processes that for a long moment. “God, she’s such a star-fucker.”
“Yup.”
He sighs. “Can I be honest with you?”
“Always.”
“I’m sick of them. Star-fuckers. Groupies. I just want a girlfriend. A normal, nice girlfriend who actually likes me. This whole scene is starting to skeeve me out, man. I’m not cut out for it. I don’t care if that makes me sound like a geek or whatever. I just want someone who likes me and not my bank account or clout.”
I laugh. “What a concept.” I clink his beer with my water bottle. “There’s nothing geeky about that, brother. It’s the truth. And the truth shall set you free. Always.”
I reflexively peek at the door again, willing Violet to walk in. The truth shall set you free. I’m a firm believer in it. But what’s the truth when it comes to Violet? Am I truly willing to destroy my friendship with C-Bomb to get inside that girl again? My body is saying yes, yes, yes to that question. But, of course, my brain is telling me no, no, no. Or, at least, my brain is telling me to slow down and think about it carefully. I’ve always respected the bro code. How many times has Caleb mentored me? Been an amazing friend? More times than I can count. I mean, fuck! The dude just invited me to live in his house until I find a place to live.
My phone pings and I look down. It’s a text from my sister, asking me where the fuck I am.
“I gotta go,” I say to Fish. “If, by some miracle, Violet shows up after I’m gone, get her number for me, okay? Or give her mine. Either way, tell her I have to talk to her tonight, no matter what.”
“Talk to who?” Colin says, walking up. But the look on his face tells me he knows the answer to his own question.
Before our set, Colin had no idea Violet was the girl from Reed’s party, simply because he was off with his dancer by the time I laid eyes on Violet. But Fish and I told Colin the situation right after our set, while we were hanging out in our dressing room. We didn’t get a chance to talk about it in detail, however, because, a minute after we dropped the bomb, some “VIPs” were escorted into the dressing room to take photos with us and we had to be “on.” Welcome to my life. And then we came to this party with a bunch of crew all around us. So, all right, I guess we’re finally gonna hash this out now.
“To Violet,” I say evenly, even though I know Colin already knows that’s who I was talking about.
“Don’t use her name,” Fish whispers, glancing around nervously.
Colin crosses his arms over his chest. “And what will you do after you talk to her? What’s your big plan, Daxy boy?”
I exhale with exasperation, not sure how to answer the question honestly.
“The drummer still loves her,” Colin says, avoiding the use of Caleb’s name. “He called her the ‘one that got away.’”
“Yes, I heard that.”
Without warning, Colin gets into my face. “You sure you heard it? Because I don’t think you did.”
“Back off, man.”
He doesn’t back off. “If you heard it, you wouldn’t be staring at the front door, waiting for her to show up.”
I lean into his face. “Does she get a vote? Because I didn’t get the impression she was into the drummer. Does that matter?”
“No, it doesn’t,” Colin yell-whispers. He assesses my face for a long, tense moment. And then he shakes his head. “You’re planning to go after her. It’s written all over your face. You’re doing this, no matter the cost to all of us.”
“The cost to ‘all of us’?” I say incredulously. “What the fuck do you have to do with it?”
Colin’s dark eyes catch fire. “Think, Dax. You fuck her and we all get fucked. Our band has all the same fans as RCR. If there’s a public feud between you and him, whose side will they pick—especially if you’re the asshole who went after another guy’s girl?”
Anger is rising inside me, heating my blood. “She’s not his girl. She’s his ex.”
“Same fucking thing.”
“No, it’s not.”
&nb
sp; “Okay, what about Reed, then?”
“Reed?”
“RCR is rock royalty. A bigger cash cow than us. If C-Bomb told Reed ‘It’s us or them,’ who do you think he’d pick?”
I roll my eyes. “Reed can’t bounce us from his label, just because C-Bomb’s decided he hates me for personal reasons. There are contracts to uphold. Big money at stake. There’d be lawsuits if Reed fucked us over like that.”
“Don’t be naïve. You think any of that would stop Reed from doing whatever the hell he wants to do? Reed’s charming as fuck, but never forget he’s a shark, man. A Viking. He pillages and plunders. Everyone knows he bounced that one band off his label, even after sinking a ton of money into them, just because their lead singer fucked his girlfriend. I’m sure they had a contract, too.”
“But C-Bomb’s ex—”
“Don’t say names,” Fish whispers.
I lower my voice. “But the drummer’s ex isn’t Reed’s ex, you dumbass. Reed wouldn’t give a shit who I fucked, as long as we’re churning out hits. In fact, that’s what he said to me this morning at the hotel. He was like, ‘Just keep writing me hits, and you can have whatever you want.’”
“He didn’t mean C-Bomb’s girl!” Colin yell-whispers.
“No names!” Fish whispers.
“I’m sure, if asked, Reed would say he did,” I say.
Colin exhales. “Okay, then, what about our brotherhood with the drummer and the rest of the band? The guy just invited you to stay at his house. And Dean invited you to write songs with him for a movie soundtrack. Do you think Dean Masterson needs you—or anyone else—to help him write two songs? No. He could do that all by himself in his sleep. He’s spreading the wealth, man. Bringing you into the fold. Being your mentor and friend.”
My stomach revolts, making me feel instantly nauseated. On this score, Colin is absolutely right. Both C-Bomb and Dean have been fantastic friends to me, personally, and also to our band. If I go after Violet—assuming C-Bomb were to find out about it—I’d become C-Bomb’s mortal enemy. At least, according to him. And that would necessitate the rest of the RCR guys circling the wagons around him. They’d have no choice, because that’s how bands—and brotherhoods—work. Brotherhood. Shit. Colin is hitting me where it counts on that front. He knows that’s what I value most in this life—loyalty and fidelity to the ones I love the most.