Just Sing: An Enemies-to-Lovers Rock Star Romance (Just 5 Guys Book 1)

by Selena

  Not that he hadn’t gotten that from me. We hadn’t snuck out to meet at midnight to talk about the weather. Sure, it had taken a few months of kissing, of being sure and unsure, of backing out at the last minute, wanting to preserve some imaginary virtue. But finally, in the heat of the moment, I’d forgotten Good Girl Laney and all the things I’d learned in Sunday School. I’d forgotten everything except the feeling of Brody’s warm breath caressing my neck, the pulsating hardness of him in my hand. In that moment, I had wanted nothing in the world more than to make Brody Villines my first and only one, forever.

  Unfortunately, Brody had other plans. Plans to get famous and fuck his way through the Western world. Or maybe he just couldn’t resist “gettin’ some strange” as Piper called it. Whatever it was, he’d ripped my heart out, stomped it into the dry Kentucky dust, and spit on it. He’d told me that my forever wasn’t enough. My heart wasn’t enough. My body wasn’t enough. He had to have all the girls, those creepy girls in their baby-doll masks. I shuddered at the memory of seeing them on TV for the first time.

  Your Celebrity Eyes again, of course, as I got ready for class. They’d been talking about Just 5 Guys’ first sold-out stadium show after their first Platinum single, “Baby-Doll.” Even then, it had creeped me out to see all the painted and masked faces. Later, after he’d dumped his “hometown honey”—that’s what a magazine had once called me—they’d creeped me out even more.

  “Do you think they keep those on when they’re hooking up with Brody?” I’d asked Piper over the phone.

  “Probably,” Piper had said. “That way, when he gets arrested, he can pretend he didn’t know they were twelve.”

  Though of course I’d made lots of friends in my sorority—it was true, we were like sisters in a lot of ways—none of them would ever replace Piper, the closest thing I’d had to a real sister. None of them could be as close. Even after Piper had gone off to New York City, we’d talked on the phone at least once a week for four years, having midnight coffee dates since Piper was a night owl. Now, I couldn’t believe she wasn’t coming home for the summer. How was I going to make it through a summer with Brody Villines if I couldn’t run to Piper’s when I needed her?

  When the gazebo came into view, my feet tangled, and I stumbled. From so far, I couldn’t tell if he was there. Waiting for me. I wasn’t sure anymore that I wanted him to be. But I was sure he would be, and if he’d seen me and I turned around and ran, I’d lose everything I’d come for.

  I pushed myself onwards, hoping he hadn’t seen me stumble. Memories of our nights in the gazebo rushed up at me, but I pushed them back. This time, he’d be the one who came and lay in the gazebo crying over me when I was gone.

  six

  Brody

  I stopped at the end of the Tuckers’ driveway for only a moment to peel off my shirt and mop my sweating face with it. I punched in the gate code and strolled through. It hadn’t changed much. Guinea hens and peacocks warbled and waddled about, the smell of horse manure still hung in the air, and the big white house still stood regally over the place like a Confederate manor. Which, I supposed, it had been.

  As I made my way up to the house, I debated putting my shirt back on but decided against it. I wasn’t all tatted up like the Wilder brothers, but I knew I looked good.

  “Speaking of the devil,” Blair Tucker said with a grin, standing up from behind a hedge. “You say his name and he appears.”

  I looked around. “Who were you talking to about me this morning, Mrs. Tucker?”

  “Oh, don’t you Mrs. Tucker me,” she said, sashaying around the hedge to give me a hug. “You didn’t know me from your own mother when you were knee high to a grasshopper.”

  “It would be hard to confuse you two,” I said, giving Blair time to really hug me good. “You look at least twenty years younger.”

  “Oh, you,” Blair said, swatting me with a pair of gardening gloves. “Stop that before you make me blush.”

  “I don’t think you know how,” I said with a wicked grin.

  Blair gave me a knowing smile. “You come for some more of my sweet tea?”

  “That’s just why I’m here. How’d you know?”

  She swatted me on the ass with her gloves and, cackling all the way, led me onto the veranda. “Have a seat, Brody. I’ll be right out.”

  I looked around for signs of Laney while Mrs. Tucker was inside. I couldn’t find many, but I knew she was home. The last time I’d come, Blair had said as much. She’d told me to have patience, that Laney would come around. But I wasn’t so sure. Since we’d broken up, we hadn’t spoken even once. At first, I’d called to ask her forgiveness, though I knew I didn’t deserve it. After having my calls refused a few dozen times, I’d given up. I wasn’t too proud to beg, but I’d be damned if I was going to keep groveling forever.

  Especially since I knew I’d make even worse mistakes if she took me back. That realization had finally cured me of the urge to keep calling. I couldn’t keep hurting her, filling her with doubts and insecurities, making her think she wasn’t enough. She was. I could have been faithful, no matter how many temptations I faced. If only she’d believed me.

  For a while, I had been sure she’d call me once she calmed down. That she’d break down and forgive me. But I’d given up hope of that. She would never understand what it meant to be on the road like that, lonely and missing her, and to have those baby-dolls tearing at my clothes like a hungry mob of cannibals. Eventually, it was either succumb to them or be eaten.

  I hadn’t succumbed. Not at first. I’d held them off even when the other guys hadn’t, even when they gave me shit and my manager threatened to kick me out of the band if I didn’t pretend to date some starlet in our opening act. But too many nights on the road without talking to Laney had taken their toll. I couldn’t expect her to understand, and eventually, her trust was worn away and she no longer believed my promises. There were too many suspicions, too many missed calls, nights when I hadn’t charged my phone, nights when pictures of me with scantily clad fangirls draped over me surfaced after I’d told her I’d been too busy to call back.

  And the worst part was that even if I hadn’t cheated, I might as well have. I hadn’t held out for her after the breakup, hadn’t kept myself pure and fought for her. She’d told me to go be a rock star, and I had. I’d been pissed when she dumped me, and that very night, I’d succumbed to the thirsty mob. Anything to fill the void she’d left, anything to numb the soul-rending pain. I was just a man, and what man wouldn’t do the same when faced with hundreds of girls eager to fulfill his kinkiest fantasy at the snap of his fingers, rush to obey his every whim, more than willing to be his sex slaves for the night—his baby-dolls.

  seven

  Laney

  When I arrived at the gazebo, I could hardly believe it was empty. I looked around, as if he might be hiding nearby. But he was nowhere to be found.

  For the first time since hatching my plan, doubt crept in. What if he didn’t want me back? I hadn’t considered that. When we’d broken up, he’d called almost nightly, leaving messages begging for my forgiveness and swearing he’d never miss a call again, that I’d never see pictures of him at parties with flawless starlets, while I kept my head down and studied hard. There had been the last night, when he’d stayed up all night partying with the band and I’d stayed up all night studying for finals. He said he’d never strayed, but the pictures told a different story. In the end, I had to believe the facts. He couldn’t be trusted, and I couldn’t keep driving myself insane with doubts and fears. But I’d believed the earnest words he’d left in those messages begging for me to take him back.

  That had been three years ago, though. A lot had changed since then. Maybe he didn’t want me back anymore. After all the girls he’d fucked in those three years, I was probably the last thing on his mind. How could one girl compare to all the girls? Even if I’d been an insatiable contortionist porn star with no gag reflex, I couldn’t add up to the things tha
t a hundred girls and more could do. Why would he want sweet little Laney Tucker, with one notch on her belt, when he could have all the pussy in the world?

  After a few minutes of stretching and cooling down, I started back toward my house. He couldn’t have all the girls, I reminded herself. Not anymore. His band was done. His brief but glorious career was over, and he would go the way of all boy bands. What had happened to the members of O-Town, or Boys II Men, or New Kids on the Block? They’d go the way of jelly sandals and acid wash mom jeans, crimped hair and blue eyeshadow. In a decade, they’d be nothing but nostalgia porn.

  Just 5 Guys would be no different. Brody’s band was done, and he’d come running home to mama to wallow in memories of the good old days like an old man, knowing the best of his life was already behind him. And here I was, heading off to travel the world for a year before starting grad school. I was just getting started. At twenty-three, Brody Villines was already a washed-up has-been.

  When I reached my house, I ran up the brick steps to the veranda before I even noticed my mother sitting at the outdoor breakfast table, the one that overlooked the garden, where we sat almost every warm summer morning. She was not alone.

  Brody Villines was sitting with her.

  I fought the many competing urges that raced through me when I saw that painfully familiar face after so long—run away, throw a plant pot at his beautiful face, faint dead away…

  “Well, hello, darling,” Mom said, pulling out the chair beside her. “Come and sit.”

  “I just ran,” I said, struggling to compose myself. After the run, sweat streamed down my neck, and I must look a mess.

  “Hello, Laney,” Brody said, his voice lower than I remembered. He wasn’t all smirky and confident, as I’d expected. His eyes locked on mine, intense and unsmiling.

  “Hi.” I gave a little half-wave.

  His eyes never left mine. “How have you been?”

  “Let me just go inside and grab you a place setting,” Mom said, pushing her chair back and patting the seat beside her.

  “No, Mom, it’s okay. I’m not hungry. I need to shower.”

  “Nonsense. Sit. I’ll be right there. I’m sure you have some catching up to do. I’ll be back in a jiffy.” She smiled and gave my hand a quick squeeze on her way past.

  I shook my head, rolling my eyes at Brody as Mom closed the sliding doors behind her.

  “Same old Blair,” he said with a chuckle.

  Without intention, I felt the corner of my mouth start to twitch into an answering smile. What was I doing? My body had taken over, the muscle memory coming back like getting on a horse after three years instead of seeing the boy who had ripped my heart from my chest and eaten it raw.

  “What are you doing here, Brody?” I asked, ignoring my racing pulse and facing him squarely. I planted my hand on my hip for good measure, hoping to come off as stronger than I felt. A new round of sweat broke out on my body as I looked at Brody sitting there in a sweaty old t-shirt, one leg sprawling from under the table. God, I still remembered the smell of his sweat, how much it turned me on. Those summer nights in the gazebo, how breathlessly and completely we’d given ourselves to each other…

  “Just dropped by for a spell,” Brody drawled, leaning back and resting his arm across the chair beside him, spreading out the way only a guy could. “Aren’t you going to join me? You’re not going to leave a guest outside by himself, are you now?”

  There was the smirk, the one I’d seen on TV. Not in person—he hadn’t been like that when I’d known him. Yes, he was gorgeous, but we’d been in high school. Even gorgeous guys weren’t that confident in high school. Some pretended, but it was all a front.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, sweeping over and sitting down opposite him, crossing my legs primly. I would not be the one to back down.

  “That’s the Laney Tucker I know,” Brody said, smiling bigger. “Always a lady.”

  I bit back a scoff and smiled demurely instead. I was rewarded for my efforts when I caught Brody’s eyes following a bead of sweat as it trickled down the side of my neck, along my collarbone, and finally, down my chest, where it disappeared into my cleavage. I could practically see the bastard salivating.

  So I did still have an effect on him.

  “Y’all okay out there?” Blair called from inside the house, her voice getting louder as she approached the door.

  “Listen,” Brody said, leaning forward so quickly that my stomach dropped. “I want a chance to talk. When can we see each other again?”

  “I don’t know what ever you mean,” I said, widening my eyes. “We’re talking right now.”

  “Without your mother.”

  “Now, I don’t think that would be appropriate, Brody Villines,” I said. “Do you? What with us having the history we do, and me being an enfiancéd woman.”

  I almost laughed out loud at the shock on his face. It was almost too perfect. I’d fantasized about this moment more often than I’d fantasized about anything in my life. More than I fantasized about my fiancé, that was for damn sure. But in real life, things never worked out the way they did in fantasies.

  Except this once.

  Brody’s mouth didn’t literally fall open, but it might as well have. He recoiled as if slapped, his eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared, and the muscle in his jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth. His hands closed around the edge of the table, gripping so hard his knuckles went white, and for a second, I thought he might hurl his glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

  He got control of himself just as Blair appeared, and his face smoothed into its usual easy expression. God, I’d missed this boy.

  He’s not that boy anymore, I reminded myself. He’s a big star now, a player, a man-whore. A cheater.

  When my mother appeared, I slipped from the table. “Thank you, Mama,” I said. “I’m just going to rinse off. It’s unseemly to eat in such a state.” I turned to Brody and offered him my most placid smile. “It was nice seeing you again, Brody. Have a good summer.” With that dismissal, I turned, flipped my ponytail back over my shoulder, and walked into the house.

  Laney Tucker, 1. Brody Villines, 0.

  eight

  Brody

  After breakfast, I hung around only a few minutes, as it was apparent Laney would not be making another appearance. I said my goodbyes and started across the field on foot. Now that the morning’s fleeting cool had worn off, the sun beat down mercilessly, and a sweet green smell rose from the grass as it warmed. If I’d been sure that no reporters would be sniffing around my place, I would have taken the road, which had some shade trees. But I wanted solitude. My old Hanes t-shirt wasn’t exactly a brand name my manager would approve, and I’d been too distracted by my determination to see Laney to grab designer shades before leaving my house that morning.

  The thought itself seemed ludicrous now, as I jogged along the trail, gravel crunching under my feet. What did the name on a pair of sunglasses matter when the only woman I’d ever loved was going to take someone else’s name? I’d known she had a boyfriend off at school. Our mothers had remained friends even when we hadn’t. But I’d always known that someday, I’d come home to Laney. That she would wait for me.

  I’d never imagined her breaking my heart in return for the heartbreak I’d caused her. I’d never imagined that her revenge could be so cruel. Because it had to be that—it had to. She couldn’t really love this clown, whoever he was. I was somebody, and who was this asshole? She’d couldn’t feel about him the way she had about me.

  The way she’d delivered the news was almost more heartless than the words themselves. It wasn’t that she’d enjoyed watching my illusions shatter. That would have been better. At least then I would know for sure that she’d only done it to hurt me. That she still felt something for me. But she’d told me in such a calm, offhand way, as if she didn’t for a moment consider how I would feel about it. As if that no longer mattered to her.

  But it would. I would get
her back. She wasn’t yet married. I had to find a way to stop her before she made the horrible mistake. I had never stopped loving her, and I wasn’t going to let her go until she loved me again, too.

  * * *

  As soon as I was through the door, my mother rushed out of the sitting room. “Brody, I’m so glad you’re home,” she said.

  Instantly alerted by the choked sound of Virginia’s voice, I stiffened. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

  “You’re grandfather—he—.” She stopped speaking, her breath hitching.

  “Oh, Mom, I’m sorry,” I said, pulling her into a hug. Hugging was usually reserved for funerals in our family. “Is he…?”

  She shook her head against my chest, then pulled away and dabbed at her eyes with a silk handkerchief. “He’s still with us,” she said. “But he’s had another stroke, and it’s… It’s not so minor this time.”

  “Does Dad know?”

  “Yes,” she said. “But he’s in Louisville. He won’t be home until the weekend.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s go see Gramps.”

  She patted her eyes dry, took a breath, summoned some of her usual poise. “Not in those clothes,” she said. “Go and take a shower. You can’t go running into a hospital looking like that.”

  “On it,” I said, jogging up the stairs. I grabbed some slacks and a polo shirt, not wanting to dress too casually and piss off my mama. I didn’t mind showing Gramps the respect he deserved. My grandpa had been as big a part of my life growing up as my own father. While my dad was often away on business, Grandpa Othal was always there, fixing things, taking care of his “little girl,” a name he still called my mother to this day.

  Even though he’d amassed a fortune as a producer in country music’s early days, he came from nothing. At eighty, Gramps still knew how to roll up his sleeves and get under the hood of a car, could diagnose an engine problem by ear, and prided himself on having never had a professional oil change in his life. As a boy, I had looked up to my grandfather, with his big, firm handshakes and tough-guy attitude. He’d taught me to be a man.