Rock God in Exile (Smidge Book 2)

by Kella Campbell

  “Absolutely!” Crys pursed her lips, thinking. “Blade told me to spend however much I wanted on a dress, and I can’t haggle with one of Rhys’s best friends, so… just tell me whatever you think is right.”

  “Well, it’s going to take probably twelve work hours for me — that’ll add up to about nine hundred — and then depending on the style of dress and the kind of fabric, we’re looking at a couple hundred there if you want nice stuff, plus any lace or beading or sequins… Oh, and I’m going to need to buy a duplicate of your current most comfortable bra if I can find it here, ’cause I can build a bodice around it and know that it’ll support everything in a good way. How about twelve hundred?”

  Crys agreed, without hesitation but with a touch of concern. “That’s an awfully good deal. I’ve been looking at a lot of wedding dresses lately, and they’re mostly more than that, even with a wait time of several months for delivery. Are you sure it’s enough?”

  He assured her it was, and launched into a series of questions about what sort of dress she imagined for herself, sleeves or no sleeves, lace or no lace, hotfix Swarovski crystals, and a discussion of silk chiffon.

  It’s practically a crime to spend that kind of money on a dress for a single day’s use, Nell thought. I could never do it. But people often balked at the cost of martial arts training too, she reminded herself, and Johnny should be paid for his professional skill. The money will at least do some good, going to him.

  Nell wondered if Eamonn was the sort of man who wanted a wedding, or if being legally wed would matter to him. I hope not. All this fuss struck her as a burden and a jinx — and maybe there could be such a thing as a forever partner, but did it have to be at that price?

  “I’ll need a bunch of other measurements too,” Johnny was saying. “That’ll get me started, and then I’m going to need to get down there to fit it to you and make some adjustments.”

  Crys nodded happily. “Yes! We’ll arrange plane tickets for you. Bring Tab, if he wants to come — you might as well have a vacation, and Napa’s beautiful. I know Rhys will be glad to see you, and so will I.”

  At that, Nell felt a tiny bit of unexpected envy. Maybe there was something to be said for gathering friends together to celebrate happiness. Or maybe it was just that she’d had a taste of that happiness herself and wanted more — so badly, she hardly dared let herself think about it.

  As Nell and Eamonn got back to their room, sated with fine dining and enough alcohol to take the edge off inhibitions, she stopped just outside their door. “All right,” she said.

  “What?” he asked, as he swiped his keycard to open the door.

  “You can lift me over the flipping threshold for once, if you want. Just this once.”

  He grinned. “Really?”

  When she nodded, he swept her up into his arms and carried her into the room, kicking the door shut behind him as he headed for the bed.

  She’d only wanted to prove that she could trust him to lift her — without worrying about whether he thought she was heavy, without trying to control the situation and gain the upper hand — but as she relaxed into the strength of his lift and let her head rest on his shoulder, she was struck by the sweetness in his eyes and the happiness and affection that hovered in the upturned corners of his mouth. He’s happy. We’re happy? The thought was both comforting and frightening. Wishes coming true…

  As he laid her on the bed and settled beside her, he asked, “Nella-bella, about your training — how much, how often do you really need to be at your dojang in Seattle?”

  Given the loving way he’d been looking at her, that wasn’t the question she’d expected to hear, but she knew the answer, having thought about it many times over the past few days. “At this level, I should be able to manage my own training a lot of the time, and Master Simran can fix me up to be a guest at other dojangs in our organization, wherever I am. I’d want to get home for a session with him now and then, and I have to do as many tournaments as possible if I’m going to make a serious run for World Champion this year — but again, we have those all over the continent, so…”

  Eamonn seemed satisfied by this. “Whatever I need to do to make that happen for you so we can stay together, I’ll do it. Plane tickets, whatever.”

  She’d fended him off from saying he was falling in love earlier, so he didn’t say it now, but she could see it in his face. Falling for you. Forever partner. Against all odds, she felt it too, wanted to hear it, wanted to say it, but the words wouldn’t come. Too soon. I can’t. So she sat up and said instead, “If you can flip me over, you can be on top tonight.”

  He laughed. “Go easy on me?”

  Later, as she drifted into sleep, wrapped in Eamonn’s arms, Nell felt surprisingly content. Cuddling. Who would have thought I’d enjoy it?

  The next day dawned with bustle and perfection — bustle, because it was a show day and everyone had work to do; perfection, because the sky was a clear and glorious blue and Smidge would be performing with the Bad Luck Opals in just a few hours.

  At breakfast, Sally handed Nell a Smidge security t-shirt and crew lanyard. “Here you go.”

  Nell blinked. “Oh? But I’m not—”

  “You are. We added you as security personnel this morning, subject to your agreement, of course. It clears you to go anywhere with Easy, we’re short one bodyguard because we only ever had four and the guys are five with both Easy and Rhys, and you can protect him like no one else.”

  This was true. He’d be safest with her, and yet… “I’m his girlfriend. I don’t want to pretend to be an employee.”

  Sally looked slightly embarrassed. “I understand that. But you know, if you’re going to be with him long-term, you’ll be with us. You’ll need a job; security is your natural fit, am I right? So, start as you mean to go on — crew shirt, sexy legs, and girlfriend hair. The world will just need to understand that Easy’s woman is also his bodyguard. You’ve got some cute shorts or a skirt or something, right? If not, one of us will find you something. I’ll do your hair, but I have to squeeze it in between all the million other things on deck, so be ready when I shout for you.”

  I will need a job. That truth was undeniable. Oh, what the ever-loving hell, why not? “Okay. Incidentally, we’ve got Crys’s wedding dress issue under control now. Not sure if you follow drag queens much, but Johnny performs as Ripped Creme and — okay, I don’t know a lot about this, but there’s a competition show called Drag Dolls—”

  “Honey, it’s my favorite show!” Sally lit up. “I’ve seen Ripped Creme in the trailers for the upcoming season, which is pretty much a guarantee of talent. The competitors design and make the most gorgeous outfits for themselves and then walk a runway in them and do wild stuff to prove the construction is solid and won’t fall apart. Those queens can sew the ass off your average wedding dress designer, and fast! Genius idea.”

  “Thanks. I helped Crys book plane tickets for Johnny and his partner Tab, arriving this evening. I just need to know if there’s a room for them here or if we have to find them somewhere to stay.”

  That drew a chuckle from Sally. “A rock tour can always make space for extra bodies to crash. Since Donnie took off, Quingshan’s had their room to himself, so I’ll get him to move in with Phil — as road manager, he doesn’t generally have to share, but he won’t mind for a couple of nights — and that’ll open up a room.”

  “Thanks. I’ll let Johnny know,” Nell said. “Anything else I can do to help?”

  “Rancho Rosal can provide a cake and champagne, and I’ve got the marriage license sorted, so that just leaves flowers… Could you call around, see if you can find a florist who’ll do it? Concert days are just too busy for me to have an extra minute.”

  “Sure.”

  Sally shot Nell a look of sincere appreciation. “Man, Blade’s going to owe both of us for making this happen. Got to run, I’ll text you when I’m ready to do your hair.”

  Back in h
er room, Nell put on the security shirt, then extracted the Bee Cute shorts from their bag and stepped into them. Chose running shoes in case she actually needed to take protective action. Nodded to herself. The combination said more than — more than just a fighter, more than just a girlfriend. The shorts were a bit much, but maybe over-the-top was necessary for a rock festival, and she could live with a disco ball butt for one afternoon.

  Angel and Blade and Dice and Rhys were whisked away to sound check by a limousine. Nell, with artfully tousled loose hair and what felt like a face full of glitter — Sally had added some kind of sparkly gel to her eyelids and cheekbones — was sent to wait in the passenger seat of an unmarked cargo van, where she waited for her man. He needed to be at sound check, but without anyone catching on, so they were planning to slip him in. Someone named Phil waited in the driver’s seat.

  Then the cargo door opened at the back and Easy got in and sat down among the equipment. He was definitely Easy in that moment — something beyond the Eamonn Yarrow she knew — in full rock-star mode, kitted out with rings and gelled-up hair and a little bit of eyeliner for the stage, his black eye muted with concealer. “Let’s go. I want to see what kind of piano they’ve got for me, and I’m hoping to have time to play a little so I can get used to it.”

  Easy stood with Nell and Sally and Crys, just out of sight backstage as Angel walked out to greet the crowd, followed by Blade, Dice, and Rhys. “It feels funny watching from back here,” he said in Nell’s ear. “I should be out there.”

  “It’s only two songs,” she reminded him. The piano waited for him, and “Star Shot Down” was the third song on their set list. Gary, the bass tech, stood by with his blue Warwick Corvette, ready to bring it out for him to play “My Tainted Baby” after that.

  Angel thanked the audience for coming to see them and acknowledged the tragedy that had befallen Gumdrop Conspiracy, but promised they were in for a huge treat. Word had already spread about the Bad Luck Opals’ arrival, and connections had been made, so a thunderous cheer rippled over the crowd. The first song raced by, and the second.

  Then it was time. Easy slipped on the extra-large black hoodie Sally held ready for him, big enough to drape forward and hide his face. “Go,” she said.

  He turned to give Nell a quick kiss. “I love you,” she blurted out, without quite meaning to.

  “Fuck me.” The dazzling delight on his face was a gift.

  “Go!” said Sally again. “That shit can wait.”

  Easy strode out onto the stage, head down to keep his face hidden, but joy vibrating in every line of him — a man who could make magic, walk on water, touch the sky.

  And the familiar opening notes of “Star Shot Down” sounded new and extraordinary with a keyboard in the mix.

  The transition happened every bit as smoothly as they’d hoped. On the last verse, Easy raised his head and shook his hood back, and a spotlight came up to highlight his instantly recognizable face and blond hair. A collective gasp and then screams and shouts reacted to the revelation. And when the song came to an end, Easy got up and approached Rhys. The two bassists shook hands, making it clear to everyone that there were no plots or hard feelings going on.

  Angel came over and handed his microphone to Rhys, who said, “It has been an honor and a privilege to play with Smidge, it really has. But my first love is acting and I’ve got a big chance I have to take, so I’m handing the role of bass player back to the man it belongs to, and I’m hoping you’ll all come see me on the big screen sometime not too far in the future.”

  “Thanks for everything, Risk,” Angel said. “And welcome back to Smidge, Easy!” Gary ran out to hand Easy his blue bass and plug him in.

  The rest of the set was electric, beautiful, charged with an extra energy that had even the crew listening afresh and opening their eyes in wonder at what they’d been missing, or maybe something they’d never heard before, because Easy was on fire with something that had never lit him up before.

  When the Bad Luck Opals emerged onto the stage for their set, shaking hands and high-fiving Smidge as they transitioned off for a break, the crowd burst into an extra-loud roar of applause and approval. And in all that thunder, Easy forged his way off the stage ahead of the others, straight to Nell, where he swept her into his arms and kissed her.

  It was glory unlike anything she’d felt before, an electric storm. “Did you mean it?” he gasped, coming up for air.

  I love you. She’d said it. She meant it. “Yeah. I kind of realized it last night. Needed to find the right moment to say it. I don’t want to live my life without commitment, even if it feels safer that way, so… I’m letting myself love you. I’m all in.”

  He looked dazed at that, kissed her again, her neck, her hair. “Nella-bella, my lovely ninja woman, you have no idea. I’ve given a lot of love away in my life and never had it returned until now. I love you with every bit of my being, and I’m shaking at the thought that you could feel even a little bit of the same for me.”

  It was overwhelming, and at the same time so lovely to be cared for with such passion, not just of the body but of the heart. She wanted to feel it with all of her, more than kissing, but the stage manager smacked Easy on the arm and said, “You’re back on in five minutes,” so she had to make do with five more minutes of making out, right down until he had to run back onstage and Sally took her aside to fix her face and hair.

  At five in the afternoon on a beautiful June Sunday in wine country, Christopher Blakehart and Crystal Murphy were married in the rose garden at Rancho Rosal Inn.

  The bride wore a delicate gown of tapioca silk chiffon that enhanced and framed her baby bump — it’s romantic, Johnny had said, we’re not trying to hide it — with a handful of tiny palest-pink rosebuds pinned into her halo of curls.

  The Bad Luck Opals were present for the ceremony, accompanied by notable groupie Amanda Joy Yarrow. Rising drag star Ripped Creme, who’d designed the bride’s dress, was there with partner Tab Galloway. Neither the bride’s parents nor the groom’s parents attended, but Angel’s parents had flown in for the occasion, considering Blade to be almost a son to them as well, and Dice’s father, an Episcopal priest, performed the ceremony. The Opals’ keyboardist, Carl Arascain, provided the music, including a rock-edged mashup of “Ode to Joy” and Blade’s theme from “Love Bound” as the happy couple signed the requisite papers after saying their vows, with Angel and Sally as witnesses and honor attendants.

  “Arascain’s doing a nice job of the music. I could see recording a version of this, maybe as a collab with the Opals,” Eamonn said quietly to Nell. “But… you’d probably want jazz at your wedding.” It wasn’t quite a statement, nor a question.

  She swallowed an odd lump in her throat. “I don’t know that I want a wedding,” she told him. “I hope my commitment to you is enough. If I’m letting myself do this, I mean it for life, you know — all in. The question is, do you need that signed in law and sealed in front of people?”

  “You’re enough for me, Nella-bella, just as you are,” he assured her, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze.

  She hesitated before bringing up the other thing, but had to say it. “I, uh, also don’t know how I feel about having children. I’ve always assumed I wouldn’t.”

  He gave her a slightly wry grin. “I’m not asking for promises on that, either.” And she sighed in relief. “Would you wear a ring, if I got you one?” he asked.

  “Maybe a silicone one,” she said. “Something I can wear while training. Not right away. But, you know, Christmas or something.”

  “All right, then,” he said.

  “You were just… negotiating the right to a future proposal, weren’t you?” she asked, with a surprised chuckle.

  “You know, I kind of was,” he said. “A spend your life with me proposal, that’s all. No weddings required.”

  She smiled. “Maybe in time, I’ll let you do the romantic thing. We’ll see.”
<
br />   A Note From Kella

  Thank you for reading Rock God in Exile. I have to admit that when I first introduced Easy as a disliked troublemaker in Rock Star’s Heart, I hadn’t planned to write his redemption story. But I couldn’t stop thinking about him, and the more I tried to understand him, the more I fell in love. I hope you’ve enjoyed being on that road with me.

  What’s next? It’s drummer Dice’s turn to find happiness. I’m working on his story now — Dice has always been everyone’s little brother, but now he’s ready to step up and take his share of the spotlights.

  To get the latest news, excerpts, and updates about Smidge and Rock Icon Ready:

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  Finally, if you can spare the time to write a few words, a review on Goodreads or any major retail platform would be so greatly appreciated — it doesn't have to be long or fancy, just genuine and honest. A review is the best gift you can give an author and other readers.

  Happy wishes,

  Kella xox

  Acknowledgments

  This book was a challenge to write, and took more than twice as long as I’d expected. Thank you to everyone who waited patiently for it — I hope the wait was worth it.

  Rock God in Exile is so much a product of my experiences in martial arts. To be clear, I’m nowhere near Nell’s skill level; I began as a white belt at 37 years old, and have often wondered or imagined what I’d be capable of now if I’d started as a child. But seven and a half years later, I’m preparing to test for my second-degree black belt in ATA taekwondo. That test will take place two days before this book is published.

  This book would not exist without all those experiences, and particularly the encouragement and support of my instructor and friend Tiffany John, who not only answered (and demonstrated practical answers to) uncountable questions about self-defense, martial arts, and high-level competitions, but also helped me persevere when Rock God in Exile got hard to write, talked me through problems when I got stuck, and sat with me in library and coffee shop writing sessions to get the last bit done.