Reckless Invitation (The Reckless Rockstar Series)

by Samantha Christy

  “How is she?” Bria asks.

  “Old,” Jeremy says. He turns to me. “She retired to Florida ten years ago, after my dad passed.”

  “It must be nice for her to live here. I mean, beach weather in March!”

  “You won’t find her at the beach, but she does love it here.”

  I get the idea Jeremy is more beloved by the band than Ronni. He’s older than them, for sure, but he seems nice.

  “Jeremy, are you joining us for drinks?” Crew asks.

  “Nah, you kids go ahead. Bruce can drop me at the hotel.”

  “How come you never ask me?” Ronni says.

  The five band members look at each other as tension mounts.

  “I’m kidding,” Ronni says. “As if I’d be caught dead.” She turns on her heels, dismissing us with a wave of her hand.

  “When is she going back home?” Garrett asks.

  “Thursday,” Jeremy says.

  “Not soon enough,” Bria mumbles.

  I help carry their equipment to the van. “Ronni would have a fit if she saw us,” Liam tells me. “She says high-quality bands can’t be seen moving their own stuff. ‘It sends the wrong message,’” he falsettos.

  “I’d say quite the opposite. That you like to help ease the burden on your staff.”

  Garrett laughs. “Staff? Did you hear that, Bruce, you’re our staff.” The two men share a chuckle.

  Garrett comes up behind me and whispers loudly, “The technical term is ‘roadie.’”

  I flush. “I’m sorry. I don’t know anything about this.”

  “He’s teasing you, El,” Liam says. “Staff, employee, roadie—it’s all the same shit.”

  We pile into the van, and Liam introduces me to Tom Horton, their security guy. “Ah, Thor,” I say, shaking his large hand.

  He shakes in silent laughter. I wonder if I wasn’t supposed to call him that to his face.

  “Tom goes almost everywhere with us,” Liam tells me.

  “Just pretend I’m not even there,” Tom says.

  “You?” I say, taking in arms that are the size of, well … Thor’s.

  “You’ll get used to me. I’m like a fly on the wall.”

  “More like in the ointment,” Brad jokes.

  The people in this van really enjoy each other. They’re always joking around. I’ve only been here for one day and already I’m having more fun than I anticipated. I scan our surroundings for the one person who doesn’t seem to fit. “Why isn’t Ronni here?”

  Crew snorts. “Veronica? Ride in the van? She wouldn’t lower herself. She only rides with us if we’re in limousines.”

  “You get to ride in limos?”

  “Sometimes,” Liam says. “Like the night we met, remember? It’s usually when Ronni’s trying to impress someone.”

  “That whole night is a bit fuzzy,” I admit.

  “We’ll ride in them a lot more after this tour,” Garrett says. “When we’re more famous than God.”

  Bria smacks him in the arm. “Nobody’s more famous than God.”

  “Eddie Van Halen is,” Liam says.

  I give him a sideways glance.

  “Oh, come on,” he says. “Everyone knows Eddie. Please tell me you know who he is, El. He’s like my fucking hero. One of the greatest guitar players of all time.”

  “I know the band Van Halen. I didn’t know it was named after a guy.”

  He grabs his chest like he’s dying. “You’re killing me.”

  “Don’t mind him,” Crew says. “Besides, we all know the greatest guitar player of all time is Jimi Hendrix.”

  Liam swipes a drumstick from Garrett and pops Crew on the head. Crew leans over the seat and gives Liam a wedgie.

  “Stop acting like toddlers,” Bria says. “You’re going to give Ella the wrong impression.”

  I laugh at their antics. “It’s actually quite refreshing.”

  “It is?” Bria asks, looking confused.

  I lean close and whisper. “I used to hang out with a tax attorney. This is fun.”

  She giggles, and I can see us becoming friends.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Liam

  “Stop!” My lungs are burning so badly, I feel I can’t take another breath. I stand bent over with my hands on my hips, huffing loudly.

  Ella runs a few steps ahead and then jogs in place, looking at her watch. “We’ve only gone a quarter mile.”

  “No way. It was over a mile, for sure.”

  She points behind me. “You can still see the red lifeguard stand where we started.”

  I feel like less of a man because I can’t keep up with this one tiny woman. “Shit.”

  She laughs. “It’s okay. This is your first time. Catch your breath and then we’ll go again. But you should know, ordering that second bottle of whiskey for the table last night was probably what did you in.”

  “I thought you said I could do this unless I was a smoker.”

  “You can. But it will be a lot easier without a hangover. Not to mention people do stupid stuff when they’re drunk.”

  “Speaking from experience?”

  She digs her shoe into the sand and shrugs.

  “The dickhead?”

  She nods.

  “What can I say? Guys can be assholes.”

  She studies me. “Are you an asshole, Liam?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I’ve only known you for a short time. The jury is still out, but you came dangerously close last night.”

  Guilt twists my insides. “Shit, Ella, I put the moves on you, didn’t I?”

  “No, but you ran off a guy who did.”

  I run a hand through my hair. “Someone tried to pick you up last night?”

  “I thought it was kind of ballsy, considering I was sitting at a table with mostly men, not to mention Thor was standing close by.”

  “Did you want to hook up with him?”

  “Of course not. I told you I’m down here to forget about a man, not have a fling with one.”

  “Well, as my friend I give you permission to tell me if and when I cross the threshold to assholery.”

  “So if we’re out drinking, and you get out of control, I have the authority to make you stop?”

  I think about all the stupid shit I’ve done when tying one on, Ronni being the most recent of said shit. Then I think about what Ronni said about me being reckless. Maybe having someone around to keep me grounded is exactly what I need. Plus, it might be refreshing to actually remember everything about my nights for once. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  A smile lights up her face. “This could be fun. It’ll be like you’re my bitch. You have to do everything I say.”

  I take a step closer. “Let’s make this clear. Nobody is the boss of me. I’m only talking about the drinking, Ella.”

  “I was joking, Liam.” She looks guilty, and I feel like a goddamn douche.

  “Come on. I’m ready now.”

  A little farther down the beach, my phone vibrates. I use it as an excuse to stop again.

  “You’re never going to be able to do this if you don’t push yourself,” she says.

  I hold up my phone. “Text from Queen Bitch of the universe.” Ella jogs around me in circles as I read it. “Holy shit!”

  “What is it?” She stops and her head brushes my shoulder as she peeks at my phone.

  I ignore the shockwave coursing through me. “She’s lined up an interview at a radio station in three hours.”

  “Sounds exciting.”

  “Hell yes, it does. We should head back to get ready.”

  She shoots me a scolding stare. “We have three hours, Liam. I’m not letting you bail. I know running isn’t fun at first. But if you give it a chance, you may come to crave it. It’s exhilarating. It’s even relaxing in some ways. It’s freeing.”

  While my body wants me to quit, I can’t deny her passion. I’d be a douchebag if I didn’t hold up my end of the bargain. “Fine, let�
��s go.”

  We run. She tries to make conversation, but I’m just trying to fucking breathe.

  “Back there, you said we had to get ready. You don’t really want me to go with you to the interview, do you?”

  “You’re … going,” I huff.

  I make her stop several more times before she concedes we’re done for the day. “Two miles,” she says. “Not bad for your first try.”

  “Yeah, but I could only run twenty damn feet at a time.”

  “That’s not true. You ran eight quarter-miles. You’ll improve quickly. I bet tomorrow you’ll run a half mile without stopping.”

  “We have to do this again tomorrow?”

  “At least three days a week, remember? Your legs probably feel like Jell-O right now, and you might wake up sore, but that just means it’s working. We’re going to whip you into shape in no time.”

  “You don’t think I’m in shape?”

  She peruses my body. I’m not wearing a shirt—we are on the beach, after all. She looks at my shoulders, arms, and bare middle. When her eyes track across my shorts to my legs, my dick jumps.

  Her eyes snap to mine. Yeah, she saw it.

  “I’m, um, talking about making you healthy on the inside.”

  “Because my outside is already perfect?”

  She rolls her eyes and starts toward the hotel. “Narcissistic musicians.”

  I stand behind her in the elevator as we ride up to our floor. She has an incredible body. I can see every curve of it through her spandex shorts and running bra, and she’s one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met. She doesn’t feed me lines to get me into bed, like most women. She doesn’t get all nervous around me. She doesn’t take my shit. She reminds me of Bria.

  I envy the relationship Crew has with Bria. Sometimes I think I could have that too. If Crew could overcome his past, maybe I can overcome mine.

  I laugh inwardly. Who am I kidding? No woman like that could ever deal with the fucked-up person I am. It wouldn’t be fair to her. In some ways, it might even be dangerous. Ella is too good for me, that’s for damn sure.

  “Liam?” She’s holding the door open for me. “This is our floor. Where’d you go?”

  “Just tired from the run, and I need a glass of water. My mouth is drier than the Sahara.”

  “I’ve got a bottle in my room.”

  I follow her in and collapse dramatically on the floor. She gets two bottles from her fridge and lies down next to me. I rise on an elbow, drink, and put my head back down. We lock eyes for a split second before she glances away. Her chest rises and falls slowly. It makes me hard. I turn and look under the couch. “Housekeeping really needs to clean under there. I think I see a used condom.”

  “Ew,” she says, hopping off the floor.

  I get up, chug the rest of the water, and try to make a jump shot in the trash with the empty bottle. It misses. When I go over to pick it up, I stop at her art table. I look at one of her sketches. “Is this … me?”

  She marches over and gathers all of her drawings into a pile. “Yes and no. Maybe it’s the eight-year-old version of you.”

  I’m intrigued. I hold my hand out. “Can I see them?”

  She thinks about it, then gives me the pile and sits on the bed. I go through each one. There are six or seven of me and a few more that aren’t. “Is this a monkey?”

  “A chimpanzee,” she says.

  I laugh. “You’re drawing me, and you’re drawing monkeys. What does that say about me? You think I’m a Neanderthal?”

  “Chimpanzees, not monkeys, and don’t flatter yourself. Artists often draw likenesses of those who are close to them.”

  I raise a brow. “So now we’re close?”

  “In proximity, you dork.”

  “Why are you drawing pictures of me and monkeys—sorry, chimpanzees. Do you have some kind of simian fetish?”

  She hands me a folder. Inside it is a loosely bound manuscript entitled, The Adventures of Jimmy and Jojo. “It’s the series I’m illustrating. I was playing around with what the kid should look like. Your likeness seemed a good candidate.”

  I can’t contain my smirk. “So you’re saying I’m hot?”

  “I’m saying your face works well on an eight-year-old.”

  I cringe. “Ouch, El. Way to emasculate me.”

  “Nobody is denying you aren’t attractive. I think you have that roguish boy look I was searching for.”

  “You think I’m attractive then.”

  “Shut up.”

  I laugh, put the drawings down, and get out my phone to snap a picture of the top one. “Evidence that I knew you before you became a famous illustrator.” I aim my phone at her and take another one.

  She tries to cover her face. “I’m all sweaty.”

  I glance at the photo. “Too late, I got one.”

  She points to the door. “You have to leave. I need a shower.”

  There are about fifteen comebacks I want to blurt, but I don’t. I leave and go down the hall to Garrett’s. He’s not there. I look at her picture again, and I can’t keep thoughts of her taking a shower out of my head. I strip in the bathroom. In the shower, I rub one out. I knew I’d be doing this from the minute I saw her in her running clothes. But what I didn’t know is that I’d be thinking about her doing it for me. For the first time in my whole miserable life, I’m imagining a woman tugging on my dick. I’m not thinking about sex or going down on some random girl. I’m not fantasizing about touching a woman’s breasts. I’m thinking about Ella stroking my cock. And I come all over the shower wall, shouting while I ride out the most powerful orgasm I’ve ever had.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ella

  “My name is Melissa. The three of you can wait out here,” she says to Ronni, Jeremy and me. “The band will be in the booth. You’ll be able to see them through this window and hear them through those speakers.”

  “I think I should be with them,” Ronni says. “I’m the one who vetted the questions.”

  “Sorry,” she says. “As you can see, it’s pretty cramped in there. I’ll be out here with you if you need anything.”

  Liam and the others look amused that Ronni’s been put in her place. They are led into the booth and given headphones. They sit around a table with microphones in front of every seat.

  Matt, the radio personality, tells the audience he’s got something special in store for them. “I just so happen to have five fascinating people sitting with me in the studio today. This will be the first ever radio interview with this up-and-coming band from New York. Listen to this and then I’ll be back with Reckless Alibi.”

  Ronni finds a chair to sit on. “They better not say anything stupid.”

  “Relax,” Jeremy says. “Everything will be fine. This show will be syndicated all over the state and even outside of Florida. You’ve been trying to make this happen for months. You did this.”

  “Damn right I did. I should be in there.”

  “You should be happy, knowing you’re the woman behind the band.”

  She picks at a fingernail, then turns her attention to me. “Why are you here?”

  “Liam asked me to come.”

  Her lips curl in disgust. “Are you his flavor of the week?”

  I try not to be snarky. “I told you we’re not dating.”

  “But you want to.”

  “We’re friends.”

  “Right.”

  “Give it a rest, Ronni,” Jeremy says. “You don’t have to control everything, you know.”

  “Humph,” she grunts and twirls in her chair.

  Jeremy points to the booth. “They’re getting started. Let’s listen.”

  “Wow,” Matt says. “That’s as hot as a cat on a tin roof. People, if you could see who’s at the table with me, you’d agree that in person they are as amazing as their music. You’re a great-looking bunch.”

  The five of them glance at each other. Crew leans in and says, “Uh, thanks.”

 
Matt laughs. “Humble, too. I like it. Chris Rewey, you’re the lead singer.”

  “Co-lead, and you can call me Crew.”

  “Right. Sorry. You and Brianna are the lead singers. Give me a rundown of the band. Tell me who you are and what you do.”

  “Sure. Like you said, Brianna and I are the singers. We also both play keyboards. I play backup guitar sometimes. We write the lyrics to the majority of our songs. To my right is Liam Campbell, lead guitarist. He puts our lyrics to music. Garrett Young is our drummer and backup singer. Next to him is Brad Templeton, who plays bass.

  “That’s it? You play bass?” Matt says. “Only the one job?”

  He’s obviously messing with him, but Brad is irritated.

  “Playing bass is harder than you think,” Liam says in his defense.

  “Sure it is,” Matt says. “So, Crew, how long has Reckless Alibi been together?”

  “About four years. Liam, Garrett, and I have been a part of the band from the start. Brad and Bria joined us last year. Brianna used to sing backup for White Poison.”

  “Really? Can you tell us about it, Brianna? I hear they’re a wild bunch of Brits.”

  “They sure are. I was fortunate to have the opportunity to sing with them.”

  Matt nods. “Hmm. A little voice in my ear just told me you used to date Adam Stuart, their lead singer. Is that true?”

  Bria appears horrified. Crew grabs her hand and nods. “Yes,” she says. “But not for long. I found out where I really belonged when I met these guys.”

  He notices their clasped hands. “You and Crew are together?”

  Crew glances through the window at Ronni, who’s making the cutthroat sign and having a minor conniption. “We are.”

  Ronni stomps her foot and cusses.

  “Brianna, are you just with Crew or …” He smirks at the other men at the table.

  She laughs off his insinuation. “I’m a one-man woman, Matt.”

  “On that note, here’s another song by Reckless Alibi. We’ll be right back after.”

  Ronni is pissed. “When will they ever listen?”

  “Nobody cares that they’re a couple,” Jeremy says.

  “They do care. I guarantee they’d sell more records and have more fans if women thought they had a chance with him.”